WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 


SUDDENLY  HK  HKARD  AN  ITALIAN  VOICE  VERY  NEAB  TO  HIM, 

<    vi  I  is..    HIM    HY    NAMK,    IN    A   TONK  OF   SURPRISE." 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 


BY 


F.    MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "SARACINESCA,"    "THE  HEART  OF  ROME,' 
ETC.,   ETC. 


WITH  EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS 

DBAWN  IN  ROME  WITH  THE  AUTHOR'S   SUGGESTIONS 
BY 

HORACE  T.  CARPENTER 


"  Whosoever  shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  which  believe 
in  Me,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  mill-stone  were  hanged 
about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of 
the  *ea" 


ff atfc 
THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1905 

All  rights  reserved 


COPT  EIGHT,  1904, 
BT  TUB  MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 

Set  up  »nd  electrotyped.    Published  October,  1904-     Reprinted 
October,  December,  1904 :  January,  190$. 


Thirty-first  Thousand 


J.  8.  Ciuhlng  &  Co.  —  Berwick  *  fimith  Co. 
Norwood,  MaM.,  U.8.A. 


C 

ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  Suddenly  he  heard  an  Italian  voice  very  near  to  him,  calling 

him  by  name,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  "         .        .        Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGB 

"  '  I  call  it  the  sleeping  death,'  answered  the  Professor  "         .      36 

"  He  flushed  again,  very  angry  this  time,  and  he  moved  away 

to  leave  her,  without  another  word  "        ....       58 

" .  .  .  the  door  was  darkened,  and  the  girl  stood  there  with 

a  large  copper  « conca '  .  .  . " 96 

"  He  moved  a  step  towards  the  bed,  and  then  another,  forcing 

himself  to  go  on  " 144 

"  Ercole  left  his  home  after  sunset  that  evening  "  .        .        .     198 

'•  Regina  made  a  steady  effort,  lifting  fully  half  Aurora's 

weight  with  her "  c 214 

"•  She  sat  there  like  a  figure  of  grief  outlined  in  black  against 

the  moonlight  on  the  great  wall " 368 


155249 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 


CHAPTER   I 

WHEN  the  widow  of  Martino  Consalvi  married 
young  Corbario,  people  shook  their  heads  and  said 
that  she  was  making  a  great  mistake.  Consalvi  had 
been  dead  a  good  many  years,  but  as  yet  no  one  had 
thought  it  was  time  to  say  that  his  widow  was  no 
longer  young  and  beautiful,  as  she  had  always  been. 
Many  rich  widows  remain  young  and  beautiful  as 
much  as  a  quarter  of  a  century,  or  even  longer,  and 
the  Signora  Consalvi  was  very  rich  indeed.  As  soon 
as  she  was  married  to  Folco  Corbario  every  one  knew 
that  she  was  thirty-five  years  old  and  he  was  barely 
twenty- six,  and  that  such  a  difference  of  ages  on  the 
wrong  side  was  ridiculous  if  it  was  not  positively  im 
moral.  No  well-regulated  young  man  had  a  right  to 
marry  a  rich  widow  nine  years  older  than  himself,  and 
who  had  a  son  only  eleven  years  younger  than  he. 

A  few  philosophers  who  said  that  if  the  widow  was 
satisfied  the  matter  was  nobody's  business  were  treated 
with  the  contempt  they  deserved.  Those  who,  on  the 
contrary,  observed  that  young  Corbario  had  married 
for  money  and  nothing  else  were  heard  with  favour, 

B  1 


2  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

until  the  man  who  knew  everything  pointed  out  that 
as  the  greater  part  of  the  fortune  would  be  handed 
over  to  Marcello  when  he  came  of  age,  six  years  hence, 
Corbario  had  not  made  a  good  bargain  and  might  have 
done  better.  It  was  true  that  Miircello  Consalvi  had 
inherited  a  delicate  constitution  of  body ;  it  had  even 
been  hinted  that  he  was  consumptive.  Corbario 
would  have  done  better  to  wait  another  year  or  two 
to  see  what  happened,  said  a  cynic,  for  young  people 
often  died  of  consumption  between  fifteen  and  twenty. 
The  cynic  was  answered  by  a  practical  woman  of  the 
world,  who  said  that  Corbario  had  six  years  of  luxury 
and  extravagance  before  him,  and  that  many  men 
would  have  sold  themselves  to  the  devil  for  less. 
After  the  six  years  the  deluge  might  come  if  it  must; 
it  was  much  pleasanter  to  drown  in  the  end  than  never 
to  have  had  the  chance  of  swimming  in  the  big  stream 
at  all,  and  bumping  sides  with  the  really  big  fish,  and 
feeling  oneself  as  good  as  any  of  them.  Besides,  Mar 
cello  was  pale  and  thin,  and  had  been  heard  to  cough ; 
he  might  die  before  he  came  of  age.  The  only  objec 
tion  to  this  theory  was  that  it  was  based  on  a  fiction ; 
for  the  whole  fortune  had  been  left  to  the  Signora  by  a 
childless  relation. 

These  amiable  and  interesting  views  were  expressed 
with  variations  by  people  who  knew  the  three  persons 
concerned,  and  with  such  a  keen  sense  of  appropriate 
time  and  place  as  made  it  quite  sure  that  none  of  the 
three  should  ever  know  what  was  said  of  them.  The 
caution  of  an  old  fox  is  rash  temerity  compared  with 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  3 

the  circumspection  of  a  first-rate  gossip ;  and  when  the 
gossips  were  tired  of  discussing  Folco  Corbario  and 
his  wife  and  her  son,  they  talked  about  other  matters, 
but  they  had  a  vague  suspicion  that  they  had  been 
cheated  out  of  something,  A  cat  that  has  clawed  all 
the  feathers  off  a  stuffed  canary  might  feel  just  what 
they  did. 

For  nothing  happened.  Corbario  did  not  launch 
into  wild  extravagance  after  all,  but  behaved  himself 
with  the  faultless  dulness  of  a  model  middle-aged  hus 
band.  His  wife  loved  him  and  was  perfectly  happy, 
and  happiness  finally  stole  her  superfluous  years  away, 
and  they  evaporated  in  the  sunshine,  and  she  forgot  all 
about  them.  Marcello  Consalvi,  who  had  lost  his 
father  when  he  was  a  mere  child,  found  a  friend  in  his 
mother's  husband,  and  became  very  fond  of  him,  and 
thought  him  a  good  man  to  imitate ;  and  in  return 
Corbario  made  a  companion  of  the  fair-haired  boy,  and 
taught  him  to  ride  and  shoot  in  his  holidays,  and  all 
went  well. 

Moreover,  M arcello's  mother,  who  was  a  good  woman, 
told  him  that  the  world  was  very  wicked ;  and  with 
the  blind  desire  for  her  son's  lasting  innocence,  which 
is  the  most  touching  instinct  of  loving  motherhood, 
she  entreated  him  to  lead  a  spotless  life.  When  Mar- 
cello,  in  the  excusable  curiosity  of  budding  youth, 
asked  his  stepfather  what  that  awful  wickedness  was 
against  which  he  was  so  often  warned,  Corbario  told 
him  true  stories  of  men  who  had  betrayed  their  country 
and  their  friends,  and  of  all  sorts  of  treachery  and 


4  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

meanness,  to  which  misdeeds  the  boy  did  not  feel 
himself  at  all  inclined ;  so  that  he  wondered  why 
his  mother  seemed  so  very  anxious  lest  he  should  go 
astray.  Then  he  repeated  to  her  what  Corbario  had 
told  him,  and  she  smiled  sweetly  and  said  nothing, 
and  trusted  her  husband  all  the  more.  She  frit  that 
he  understood  her,  and  was  doing  his  best  to  help  her 
in  making  Marcello  what  she  wished  him  to  be. 

The  boy  was  brought  up  at  home  ;  in  Rome  in  the 
winter,  and  in  summer  on  the  great  estate  in  the  south, 
which  his  father  had  bought  and  which  was  to  be  a 
part  of  his  inheritance. 

He  was  taught  by  masters  who  came  to  the  house 
to  give  their  lessons  and  went  away  as  soon  as  the 
task  was  over.  He  had  no  tutor,  for  his  mother  had 
not  found  a  layman  whom  she  could  trust  in  that 
capacity,  and  yet  she  understood  that  it  was  not  good 
for  a  boy  to  be  followed  everywhere  by  a  priest. 
Besides,  Corbario  gave  so  much  of  his  time  to  his 
stepson  that  a  tutor  was  hardly  needed  ;  he  walked 
with  him  and  rode  with  him,  or  spent  hours  with  him 
at  home  when  the  weather  was  bad.  There  had  never 
been  a  cross  word  between  the  two  since  they  had  met. 
It  was  an  ideal  existence.  Even  the  gossips  stopped 
talking  at  last,  and  there  was  not  one,  not  even  the 
most  ingeniously  evil-tongued  of  all,  that  prophesied 
evil. 

They  raised  their  eyebrows,  and  the  more  primitive 
among  them  shrugged  their  shoulders  a  little,  and 
smiled.  If  Providence  really  insisted  upon  making 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  5 

people  so  perfect,  what  was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  dis 
tressing,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  said ;  they  must 
just  lead  their  lives,  and  the  gossips  must  bear  it. 
No  doubt  Corbario  had  married  for  money,  since  he 
had  nothing  in  particular  and  his  wife  had  millions, 
but  if  ever  a  man  had  married  for  money  and  then 
behaved  like  an  angel,  that  man  was  Folco  Corbario 
and  no  other.  He  was  everything  to  his  wife,  and 
all  things  to  his  stepson  —  husband,  father,  man  of 
business,  tutor,  companion,  and  nurse  ;  for  when 
either  his  wife  or  Marcello  was  ill,  he  rarely  left  the 
sick-room,  and  no  one  could  smooth  a  pillow  as  he 
could,  or  hold  a  glass  so  coaxingly  to  the  feverish  lips, 
or  read  aloud  so  untiringly  in  such  a  gentle  and  sooth 
ing  voice. 

No  ascendency  of  one  human  being  over  another  is 
more  complete  than  that  of  a  full-grown  man  over 
a  boy  of  sixteen,  who  venerates  his  elder  as  an  ideal. 
To  find  a  model,  to  believe  it  perfection,  and  to  copy 
it  energetically,  is  either  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune, 
or  a  misfortune  even  greater ;  in  whatever  follows  in 
life,  there  is  the  same  difference  between  such  develop 
ment  and  the  normally  slow  growth  of  a  boy's  mind  as 
that  which  lies  between  enthusiasm  and  indifference. 
It  is  true  that  where  there  has  been  no  enthusiastic 
belief  there  can  be  no  despairing  disillusionment  when 
the  light  goes  out ;  but  it  is  truer  still  that  hope  and 
happiness  are  the  children  of  faith  by  the  ideal. 

A  boy's  admiration  for  his  hero  is  not  always  well 
founded  ;  sometimes  it  is  little  short  of  ridiculous, 


6  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

and  it  is  by  no  means  always  harmless.  But  no  one 
found  fault  with  Marcello  for  admiring  his  stepfather, 
and  the  attachment  was  a  source  of  constant  satisfac 
tion  to  his  mother.  In  her  opinion  Corbario  was  the 
handsomest,  bravest,  cleverest,  and  best  of  men,  and 
after  watching  him  for  some  time  even  the  disappointed 
gossips  were  obliged  to  admit,  though  without  super 
latives,  that  he  was  a  good-looking  fellow,  a  good 
sportsman,  sufficiently  well  gifted,  and  of  excellent  be 
haviour.  There  was  the  more  merit  in  the  admission, 
they  maintained,  because  they  hud  been  inclined  to 
doubt  the  man,  and  had  accused  him  of  marrying  out 
of  pure  love  of  money.  A  keen  judge  of  men  might 
have  thought  that  his  handsome  features  were  almost 
too  still  and  too  much  like  a  mask,  that  his  manner 
was  so  quiet  as  to  be  almost  expressionless,  and  that  the 
soft  intonation  of  his  speech  was  almost  too  monotonous 
to  be  natural.  But  all  this  was  just  what  his  wife 
admired,  and  she  encouraged  her  son  to  imitate  it. 
His  father  had  been  a  man  of  quick  impulses,  weak 
to-day,  strong  to-morrow,  restless,  of  uncertain  temper, 
easily  enthusiastic  and  easily  cast  down,  capable  of 
sudden  emotions,  and  never  able  to  conceal  what  he 
felt  if  he  had  cared  to  do  so.  Marcello  had  inherited 
his  father's  character  and  his  mother's  face,  as  often 
happens  ;  but  his  unquiet  disposition  was  tempered  as 
yet  by  a  certain  almost  girlish  docility,  which  had 
clung  to  him  from  childhood  as  the  result  of  being 
brought  up  almost  entirely  by  the  mother  he  wor 
shipped.  And  now,  for  the  first  time,  comparing  him 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  7 

with  her  second  husband,  she  realised  the  boy's  girlish- 
ness,  and  wished  him  to  outgrow  it.  Her  own  ideal 
of  what  even  a  young  man  should  be  was  as  unpracti 
cal  as  that  of  many  thoroughly  good  and  thoroughly 
unworldly  mothers.  She  wished  her  son  to  be  a  man 
at  all  points,  and  yet  she  dreamed  that  he  might  re 
main  a  sort  of  glorified  young  girl;  she  desired  him 
to  be  well  prepared  to  face  the  world  when  he  grew 
up,  and  yet  it  was  her  dearest  wish  that  he  might 
never  know  anything  of  the  world's  wickedness.  Cor- 
bario  seemed  to  understand  her  better  in  this  than  she 
understood  herself,  and  devoted  his  excellent  gifts  and 
his  almost  superhuman  patience  to  the  task  of  forming 
a  modern  Galahad.  Her  confidence  in  her  husband 
increased  month  by  month,  and  year  by  year. 

"  I  wish  to  make  a  new  will,"  she  said  to  her  lawyer 
in  the  third  year  of  her  marriage.  "  I  shall  leave  my 
husband  a  life-interest  in  a  part  of  my  fortune,  and  the 
reversion  of  the  whole  in  case  anything  should  happen 
to  my  son." 

The  lawyer  was  a  middle-aged  man,  with  hard 
black  eyes.  While  he  was  listening  to  a  client,  he 
had  a  habit  of  folding  his  arms  tightly  across  his  chest 
and  crossing  one  leg  over  the  other.  When  the 
Signora  Corbario  had  finished  speaking  he  sat  quite 
still  for  a  moment,  and  then  noiselessly  reversed  the 
crossing  of  his  legs  and  the  folding  of  his  arms,  and 
looked  into  her  face.  It  was  very  gentle,  fair,  and 
thoughtful. 

"  I  presume,"  answered  the  lawyer,  "  that  the  clause 


8  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

providing  for  a  reversion  is  only  intended  as  an  ex 
pression  of  your  confidence  in  your  husband  ?  " 

"  Affection,"  answered  the  Signora,  "  includes  con 
fidence." 

The  lawyer  raised  one  eyebrow  almost  imperceptibly, 
and  changed  his  position  a  little. 

"  Heaven  forbid,"  he  said,  "  that  any  accident  should 
befall  your  son  ! " 

"  Heaven  forbid  it !  "  replied  the  Signora.  "  He 
is  very  strong,"  she  continued,  in  the  tone  people 
use  who  are  anxious  to  convince  themselves  of  some 
thing  doubtful.  "  Yet  I  wish  my  husband  to  know 
that,  after  my  son,  he  should  have  the  first  right." 

"Shall  you  inform  him  of  the  nature  of  your  will, 
Signora  ?  "  inquired  the  lawyer. 

"I  have  already  informed  him  of  what  I  mean  to 
do,"  replied  Signora  Corbario. 

Again  the  lawyer's  eyebrow  moved  a  little  nervously, 
but  he  said  nothing.  It  was  not  his  place  to  express 
any  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  disposition.  He 
was  not  an  old  family  adviser,  who  might  have  taken 
such  a  liberty.  There  had  been  such  a  man,  indeed, 
but  he  was  dead.  It  was  the  duty  of  the  rich  woman's 
legal  adviser  to  hinder  her  from  committing  any  posi 
tive  legal  mistake,  but  it  was  not  his  place  to  criticise 
her  judgment  of  the  man  she  had  chosen  to  marry. 
The  lawyer  made  a  few  notes  without  offering  any 
comment,  and  on  the  following  day  he  brought  the  will 
for  the  Signora  to  si'_rn.  \\\  it.  ;<t  lu-r  ilt-atli,  Marcello, 
her  son,  was  to  inherit  her  givut  fur  tune.  Her  hus- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  9 

band,  Folco  Corbario,  was  constituted  Marcello's  sole 
guardian,  and  was  to  enjoy  a  life-interest  in  one-third 
of  the  inheritance.  If  Marccllo  died,  the  whole  fortune 
was  to  go  to  Corbario,  without  any  condition  or  reser 
vation  whatsoever. 

When  the  will  was  executed,  the  Signora  told  her 
husband  that  she  had  done  what  she  intended. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Corbario,  gently,  "  I  thank  you  for 
the  true  meaning  of  it.  But  as  for  the  will  itself,  shall 
we  talk  of  it  thirty  years  hence,  when  Marcello's  chil 
dren's  children  are  at  your  knee  ?  " 

He  kissed  her  hand  tenderly. 


CHAPTER  II 

MARCELLO  stood  at  an  open  window  listening  to  the 
musical  spring  rain  and  watching  the  changing  lights 
on  the  city  below  him,  as  the  dove-coloured  cloud  that 
floated  over  Rome  like  thin  gauze  was  drawn  up  into 
the  sunshine.  Then  there  were  sudden  reflections  from 
distant  windows  and  wet  domes,  that  blazed  like  white 
fires  for  a  little  while,  till  the  raindrops  dried  and  the 
waves  of  changing  hues  that  had  surged  up  under  the 
rain,  rising,  breaking,  falling,  and  spreading,  subsided 
into  a  restful  sea  of  harmonious  colour. 

After  that,  the  sweet  smell  of  the  wet  earth  came  up 
to  Marcello's  nostrils.  A  light  breeze  stirred  the  drip 
ping  emerald  leaves,  and  the  little  birds  fluttered  down 
and  hopped  along  the  garden  walks  and  over  the  leaves, 
picking  up  the  small  unwary  worms  that  had  been 
enjoying  a  bath  while  their  enemies  tried  to  keep  dry 
under  the  ilex  boughs. 

Marcello  half  closed  his  eyes  and  drank  the  fragrant 
air  with  parted  lips,  his  slim  white  hands  resting  on  the 
marble  sill.  The  sunshine  made  his  pale  face  luminous, 
and  gilded  his  short  fair  hair,  casting  the  shadow  of  the 
brown  lashes  upon  his  delicate  cheeks.  There  was 
something  angel -lik(;  in  his  rxpression  —  the  look  of  the 
frescoed  ungcls  of  Melozzo  da  Forli  in  the  Sacristy  of 

10 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  11 

St.  Peter's.  They  are  all  that  is  left  of  something  very 
beautiful,  brought  thither  broken  from  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Apostles;  and  so,  too,  one  might  have  fancied 
that  Marcello,  standing  at  the  window  in  the  morning 
sunshine,  belonged  to  a  world  that  had  long  passed 
away  —  fit  for  a  life  that  was,  fit  for  a  life  to  come  here 
after,  perhaps,  but  not  fit  for  the  life  that  is.  There 
are  rare  and  beautiful  beings  in  the  world  who  belong 
to  it  so  little  that  it  seems  cruelty  and  injustice  to 
require  of  them  what  is  demanded  of  us  all.  They  are 
born  ages  too  late,  or  ages  too  soon ;  they  should  not 
have  been  born  now.  Their  very  existence  calls  forth 
our  tenderest  sympathy,  as  we  should  pity  a  fawn  fac 
ing  its  death  among  wolves. 

But  Marcello  Consalvi  had  no  idea  that  he  could 
deserve  pity,  and  life  looked  very  bright  to  him,  very 
easy,  and  very  peaceful.  He  could  hardly  have  thought 
of  anything  at  all  likely  to  happen  which  could  darken 
the  future,  or  even  give  him  reasonable  cause  for 
anxiety.  There  was  no  imaginative  sadness  in  his 
nature,  no  morbid  dread  of  undefined  evil,  no  melan 
choly  to  dye  the  days  black;  for  melancholy  is  more 
often  an  affliction  of  the  very  strong  in  body  or  mind 
than  of  the  weak,  or  of  average  men  and  women.  Mar- 
cello  was  delicate,  but  not  degenerate ;  he  seemed  gen 
tle,  cheerful,  and  ready  to  believe  the  world  a  very 
good  place,  as  indeed  it  is  for  people  who  are  not  too 
unlike  their  neighbours  to  enjoy  it,  or  too  unlucky  to 
get  some  of  its  good  things,  or  too  weak  to  work,  fight, 
and  love,  or  too  clever  to  be  as  satisfied  with  themsel  ves 


12  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

as  most  men  are.  For  plain,  common,  everyday  happi 
ness  and  contentment  belong  to  plain,  average  people, 
who  do  what  others  do  and  have  a  cheerfully  good 
opinion  of  themselves.  Can  a  man  make  a  good  fight 
of  it  if  he  does  not  believe  himself  to  be  about  as  good 
as  his  adversary  ? 

It  had  never  occurred  to  Marcello  that  he  might 
have  to  fight  for  anything,  and  if  some  one  had  told 
him  on  that  spring  morning  that  he  was  on  the  very 
verge  of  a  desperate  struggle  for  existence  against  over 
whelming  odds,  he  would  have  turned  his  bright  eyes 
wonderingly  to  the  prophet  of  evil,  asking  whence  dan 
ger  could  come,  and  trying  to  think  what  it  might  be 
like. 

At  the  first  appearance  of  it  he  would  have  been 
startled  into  fear,  too,  as  many  a  grown  man  has  been 
before  now,  when  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with 
an  unknown  peril,  being  quite  untried :  and  small 
shame  to  him.  He  who  has  been  waked  from  a  peace 
ful  sleep  and  pleasant  dreams  to  find  death  at  his 
throat,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  knows  the  meaning 
of  that.  Samson  was  a  tried  warrior  when  Delilah  first 
roused  him  with  her  cry,  "The  Philistines  are  upon 
thee  :  " 

Marcello  was  no  youthful  Samson,  yet  he  was  not  an 
unmanly  boy,  for  all  his  bringing  up.  So  far  as  his 
strength  would  allow  he  had  been  accustomed  to  the 
exercises  and  sports  of  men  :  he  could  ride  fearlessly,  if 
not  untiringly ;  he  was  a  fair  shot ;  he  had  hunted  wild 
boar  with  his  stepfather  in  the  marshy  lands  by  the 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  13 

sea ;  he  had  been  taught  to  fence  and  was  not  clumsy 
with  weapons,  though  he  had  not  yet  any  great  skill. 
He  had  always  been  told  that  he  was  delicate  and  must 
be  careful,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  not  strong;  but 
there  was  one  good  sign  in  that  his  weakness  irritated 
him  and  bred  at  least  the  desire  for  strength,  instead  of 
the  poor-spirited  indolence  that  bears  bodily  infirmity 
as  something  inevitable,  and  is  ready  to  accept  pity  if 
not  to  ask  for  it. 

The  smell  of  the  damp  earth  was  gone,  and  as  the 
sun  shone  out  the  air  was  filled  with  the  scent  of  warm 
roses  and  the  faintly  sweet  odour  of  wistaria.  Mar- 
cello  heard  a  light  footstep  close  to  him,  and  met  his 
mother's  eyes  as  he  turned. 

Even  to  him,  she  looked  very  young  just  then,  as  she 
stood  in  the  light,  smiling  at  him.  A  piece  of  lace  was 
drawn  half  over  her  fair  hair,  and  the  ends  went  round 
her  throat  like  a  scarf  and  fell  behind  her.  Its  creamy 
tints  heightened  the  rare  transparency  of  her  com 
plexion  by  faint  contrast.  She  was  a  slight  woman 
and  very  graceful. 

"  I  have  looked  for  you  everywhere,"  she  said,  and 
she  still  smiled,  as  if  with  real  pleasure  at  having  found 
him. 

"I  have  been  watching  the  shower,"  Marcello  an 
swered,  drawing  her  to  the  window.  "  And  then  the 
earth  and  the  roses  smelt  so  sweet  that  I  stayed  here. 
Did  you  want  me,  mother  ?  " 

"I  always  like  to  know  where  you  are." 

She  passed  her  arm  through  his  with  a  loving  press- 


14  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

ure,  and  looked  out  of  the  window  with  him.  The 
villa  stood  on  the  slope  of  the  Janiculum,  close  to  the 
Corsini  gardens. 

"  Do  I  run  after  you  too  much  ?  "  the  mother  asked 
presently,  as  if  she  knew  the  answer.  "  Now  that  you 
are  growing  up,  do  I  make  you  feel  as  if  you  were  still 
a  little  boy  ?  You  are  nearly  nineteen,  you  know  I 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  treat  you  like  a  man." 

.M  .rcello  laughed,  and  his  hand  slipped  into  hers 
with  an  almost  childish  and  nestling  movement. 

"  You  have  made  a  man  of  me,"  he  answered. 

Had  she  ?  A  shadow  of  doubt  crossed  her  thought 
ful  face  as  she  glanced  at  his.  He  was  so  different 
from  other  young  men  of  his  age,  so  delicately  nurtured, 
so  very  gentle  ;  there  was  the  radiance  of  maidenly  in 
nocence  in  his  look,  and  she  was  afraid  that  he  might 
be  more  like  a  girl  than  a  man  almost  grown. 

u  I  have  done  my  best,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  I  have 
done  right." 

He  scarcely  understood  what  she  meant,  and  his 
expression  did  not  change. 

kt  Y«m  could  not  do  anything  that  was  not  right," 
he  answered. 

Perhaps  such  a  being  as  Marcello  would  be  an  impos 
sibility  anywhere  but  in  Italy.  Modern  life  tears  pri- 
va«  v  tn  tatters,  and  privacy  is  the  veil  of  the  temple  of 
home,  within  which  every  extreme  of  human  develop 
ment  is  possible,  good  and  bad.  Take  privacy  away 
and  all  the  strangely  compound  fractions  of  humanity 
an'  soon  reduced  to  a  common  denomination.  In  Italy 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  15 

life  has  more  privacy  than  anywhere  else  west  of  Asia. 
The  Englishman  is  fond  of  calling  his  home  his  castle, 
but  it  is  a  thoroughfare,  a  market-place,  a  club,  a  hotel, 
a  glass  house,  compared  with  that  of  an  average  Italian. 
An  Englishman  goes  home  to  escape  restraint  :  an  Ital 
ian  goes  out.  But  the  northern  man,  who  lives  much 
in  public,  learns  as  a  child  to  conceal  what  he  feels,  to 
be  silent,  to  wear  an  indifferent  look  ;  whereas  the 
man  of  the  south,  who  hides  nothing  when  the  doors  of 
his  house  are  shut,  can  hide  but  little  when  he  meets 
his  enemy  in  the  way.  He  laughs  when  he  is  pleased, 
and  scowls  when  he  is  not,  threatens  when  he  is  angry, 
and  sheds  tears  when  he  is  hurt,  with  a  simplicity  that 
too  often  excites  the  contempt  of  men  accustomed  to 
suffer  or  enjoy  without  moving  a  muscle. 

Privacy  favours  the  growth  of  individual  types,  dif 
fering  widely  from  each  other ;  the  destruction  of  it 
makes  people  very  much  alike.  Marcello's  mother 
asked  herself  whether  she  had  done  well  in  rearing  him 
as  a  being  apart  from  those  amongst  whom  he  must 
spend  his  life. 

And  yet,  as  she  looked  at  him,  he  seemed  to  be  so 
nearly  the  ideal  of  which  she  had  dreamt  throughout 
long  years  of  loving  care  that  she  was  comforted,  and 
the  shadow  passed  away  from  her  sweet  face.  He  had 
answered  that  she  could  do  nothing  that  was  not  right ; 
she  prayed  that  his  words  might  be  near  the  truth,  and 
in  her  heart  she  was  willing  to  believe  that  they  were 
almost  true.  Had  she  not  followed  every  good  impulse 
of  her  own  good  heart  ?  Had  she  not  tried  to  realize 


16  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

literally  for  him  the  most  beautiful  possibilities  of  the 
Christian  faith?  That,  at  least,  was  true,  and  she 
could  tell  herself  so  without  any  mistaken  pride. 
How,  then,  had  she  made  any  mistake  ?  The  boy  had 
the  face  of  a  young  saint. 

"Are  you  ready,  my  dear  ?"  she  asked  suddenly,  as  a 
far-off  clock  struck. 

••  Yes,  mother,  quite  ready." 

"  I  am  not,"  she  answered  with  a  little  laugh. 
"And  Folco  is  waiting,  and  I  hear  the  carriage  driv 
ing  up." 

She  slipped  from  Marcello's  side  and  left  the  room 
quickly,  for  they  were  going  to  drive  down  to  the  sea, 
to  a  little  shooting-lodge  that  belonged  to  them  near 
Nettuno,  a  mere  cottage  among  the  trees  by  the  Roman 
shore,  habitable  only  in  April  and  May,  and  useful  only 
then,  when  the  quail  migrate  along  the  coast  and  the 
malarious  fever  is  not  yet  to  be  feared.  It  was  there 
that  Marcello  had  first  learned  to  handle  a  gun,  spend 
ing  a  week  at  a  time  there  with  his  stepfather  ;  and 
his  mother  used  to  come  down  now  and  then  for  a  day 
or  two  on  a  visit,  sometimes  bringing  her  friend  the 
Contessa  dell'  Armi.  The  latter  had  been  very  un 
happy  in  her  youth,  and  had  been  left  a  widow  with 
one  beautiful  girl  and  a  rather  exiguous  fortune. 
Some  people  thought  that  it  was  odd  that  the  Signora 
Corbario,  who  was  a  saint  if  ever  there  was  one,  should 
have  grown  so  fond  of  the  Contessa,  for  the  latter  had 
seen  stormy  days  in  years  gone  by  ;  and  of  course  the 
ill-disposed  gossips  made  up  their  minds  that  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  17 

Contessa  was  trying  to  catch  Marcello  for  her  daughter 
Aurora,  though  the  child  was  barely  seventeen. 

This  was  mere  gossip,  for  she  was  quite  incapable  of 
any  such  scheme.  What  the  gossips  did  not  know  was 
something  which  would  have  interested  them  much 
more,  namely,  that  the  Contessa  was  the  only  person  in 
Rome  who  distrusted  Folco  Corbario,  and  that  she  was 
in  constant  fear  lest  she  should  turn  out  to  be  right, 
and  lest  her  friend's  paradise  should  be  suddenly 
changed  into  a  purgatory.  But  she  held  her  tongue, 
and  her  quiet  face  never  betrayed  her  thoughts.  She 
only  watched,  and  noted  from  month  to  month  certain 
small  signs  which  seemed  to  prove  her  right ;  and  she 
should  be  ready,  whenever  the  time  should  come,  by 
day  or  night,  to  help  her  friend,  or  comfort  her,  or 
fight  for  her. 

If  Corbario  guessed  that  the  Contessa  did  not  trust 
him,  he  never  showed  it.  He  had  found  her  installed 
as  his  wife's  friend,  and  had  accepted  her,  treating  her 
with  much  courtesy  and  a  sort  of  vicarious  affection ; 
but  though  he  tried  his  best  he  could  not  succeed  in 
reaching  anything  like  intimacy  with  her,  and  while 
she  seemed  to  conceal  nothing,  he  felt  that  she  was 
hiding  her  real  self  from  him.  Whether  she  did  so  out 
of  pride,  or  distrust,  or  jealousy,  he  could  never  be  sure. 
He  was  secretly  irritated  and  humiliated  by  her  power 
to  oppose  him  and  keep  him  at  a  distance  without  ever 
seeming  to  do  so  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  very 
patient,  very  tenacious  of  his  purpose,  and  very  skil 
ful.  He  knew  something  of  the  Contessa's  past,  but  he 


18  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

recognised  in  her  the  nature  that  has  known  the  world's 
worst  side  and  has  done  with  it  for  ever,  and  is  lifted 
above  it,  and  he  knew  the  immense  influence  which  the 
spectacle  of  a  blameless  life  exercises  upon  the  opinion 
of  a  good  woman  who  has  not  always  been  blameK-ss 
herself.  Whatever  he  had  been  before  he  met  his  wife, 
whatever  strange  plans  had  been  maturing  in  his  brain 
since  he  had  married  her,  his  life  had  seemed  as  spotless 
from  that  day  as  the  existence  of  the  best  man  living. 
His  wife  believed  in  him,  and  the  Contessa  did  not; 
but  even  she  must  in  time  accept  the  evidence  of  her 
senses.  Then  she,  too,  would  trust  him.  Why  it  was 
essential  that  she  should,  he  alone  knew,  unless  he  was 
merely  piqued  by  her  quiet  reserve,  as  a  child  is  when 
it  cannot  fix  the  attention  of  a  grown-up  person. 

The  Contessa  and  her  daughter  were  to  be  of  the 
party  that  day,  and  the  carriage  stopped  where  they 
lived,  near  the  Forum  of  Trajan.  They  appeared  al 
most  directly,  the  Contessa  in  grey  with  a  grey  veil 
and  Aurora  dressed  in  a  lighter  shade,  the  thick  plaits 
of  her  auburn  hair  tied  up  short  below  her  round  straw 
hat,  on  the  theory  that  she  was  still  a  school-girl,  whose 
skirt  must  not  quite  touch  the  ground,  who  ought  not 
to  \vear  a  veil,  and  whose  mind  was  supposed  to  be  a 
sensitive  blank,  particularly  apt  to  receive  bad  impres 
sions  rather  than  good  ones.  In  less  than  a  year  she 
would  be  dancing  all  night  with  men  she  had  scarcely 
heard  of  before,  listening  to  compliments  of  which  she 
had  never  dreamt  —  of  course  not  —  and  to  declarations 
"vhich  no  right-minded  girl  one  day  under  eighteen 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  19 

could  under  any  circumstances  be  thought  to  expect. 
Such  miracles  as  these  are  wrought  by  the  eighteenth 
birthday. 

Corbario's  eyes  looked  from  the  mother  to  the  daugh 
ter,  as  he  and  Marcello  stood  on  the  pavement  to  let 
them  get  in.  The  Contessa  touched  his  outstretched 
hand  without  restraint  but  without  cordiality,  smiling 
just  as  much  as  was  civil,  and  less  readily  than  would 
have  been  friendly.  Aurora  glanced  at  him  and 
laughed  prettily  without  any  apparent  reason,  which 
is  the  privilege  of  very  young  girls,  because  their  minds 
are  supposed  to  be  a  blank.  Also  because  her  skirt 
must  not  quite  touch  the  ground,  one  very  perfect  black 
silk  ankle  was  distinctly  visible  for  a  moment  as  she 
stepped  into  the  carriage.  Note  that  from  the  eve  of 
her  eighteenth  birthday  till  she  is  old  enough  to  be 
really  wicked  no  well-regulated  young  woman  shows 
her  ankles.  This  also  is  one  of  the  miracles  of  time. 

Marcello  blushed  faintly  as  he  sat  down  beside  Au 
rora.  There  were  now  five  in  the  big  carriage,  so  that 
she  was  between  the  two  men ;  and  though  there  was 
enough  room  Marcello  felt  the  slight  pressure  of  her 
arm  against  his.  His  mother  saw  his  colour  change, 
and  looked  away  and  smiled.  The  idea  of  marrying 
the  two  in  a  few  years  had  often  crossed  her  mind,  and 
she  was  pleased  whenever  she  saw  that  Marcello  felt  a 
little  thrill  of  emotion  in  the  girl's  presence.  As  for 
Aurora,  she  looked  straight  before  her,  between  the 
heads  of  the  two  elder  women,  and  for  a  long  time  after 
they  had  started  she  seemed  absorbed  in  watching  the 


20  W1I«»S»I-:VER   SHALL  OFFEND 

receding  walls  of  the  city  and  the  long  straight  road 
that  led  back  to  it.  The  Contessa  and  her  friend  talked 
quietly,  happy  to  be  together  for  a  whole  day.  Cor- 
bario  now  and  then  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if 
to  assure  himself  that  they  were  quite  comfortable,  and 
his  still  face  wore  an  unchanging  look  of  contented 
calm  as  his  eyes  turned  again  to  the  sunlit  sweep  of  the 
low  Carnpagna.  Marcello  looked  steadily  away  from 
Aurora,  happily  and  yet  almost  painfully  aware  that 
her  arm  could  not  help  pressing  against  his.  The 
horses'  hoofs  beat  rhythmically  on  the  hard  high  road, 
with  the  steady,  cheerful  energy  which  would  tell  a 
blind  man  that  a  team  is  well  fed,  fresh  from  rest,  and 
altogether  fit  for  a  long  day's  work.  The  grey-haired 
coachman  sat  on  his  box  like  an  old  dragoon  in  the 
saddle ;  the  young  groom  sat  bolt  upright  beside  him 
with  folded  arms,  as  if  he  could  never  tire  of  sitting 
straight.  The  whole  party  looked  prosperous,  harmo 
nious,  healthy,  and  perfectly  happy,  as  if  nothing  in  the 
least  unpleasant  could  possibly  happen  to  them,  still 
less  anything  terrible,  that  could  suddenly  change  all 
their  lives. 

One  of  fate's  favourite  tricks  is  to  make  life  look  par 
ticularly  gay  and  enjoyable,  and  full  of  sunshine  and 
flowers,  at  the  very  moment  when  terror  wakes  from 
sleep  and  steps  out  of  the  shadow  to  stalk  abroad. 

The  cottage  where  the  party  were  going  to  spend  the 
next  few  days  together  was  built  like  an  Indian  bunga 
low,  consisting  of  a  single  story  surrounded  by  a  broad, 
covered  verandah,  and  having  a  bit  of  lawn  in  front. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  21 

It  was  sheltered  by  trees,  and  between  it  and  the  beach 
a  bank  of  sand  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  high  ran  along 
the  shore,  the  work  of  the  southwest  gales  during 
many  ages.  In  many  places  this  bank  was  covered 
with  scrub  and  brushwood  on  the  landward  side. 

A  little  stream  meandered  down  to  the  sea  on  the 
north  side  of  the  cottage,  ending  in  a  pool  full  of  tall 
reeds,  amongst  which  one  could  get  about  in  a  punt. 
The  seashore  itself  is  very  shelving  at  that  place,  and 
there  is  a  bar  about  a  cable's  length  out,  over  which  the 
sea  breaks  with  a  tremendous  roar  during  westerly 
storms.  Two  hundred  yards  from  the  cottage,  a  large 
hut  had  been  built  for  the  men-servants  and  for  the 
kitchen  ;  near  by  it  there  was  a  rough  coach-house  and 
a  stable  with  room  for  a  dozen  horses.  The  carriage  usu 
ally  went  back  to  Rome  on  the  day  after  every  one  had 
arrived,  and  was  sent  for  when  wanted  ;  but  there  were 
a  number  of  rough  Campagna  horses  in  the  stable,  such 
as  are  ridden  by  the  cattle  herders  about  Rome,  tough 
little  beasts  of  fairly  good  temper  and  up  to  a  much 
heavier  weight  than  might  be  guessed  by  a  stranger  in 
the  country.  In  the  morning  the  men  of  the  party  usu 
ally  went  shooting,  if  the  wind  was  fair,  for  where 
quail  are  concerned  much  depends  on  that.  Dinner 
was  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  every  one  was  sup 
posed  to  go  to  sleep  after  it.  In  the  late  afternoon  the 
horses  were  saddled,  and  the  whole  party  went  for  a 
gallop  on  the  sands,  or  up  to  classic  Ardea,  or  across 
the  half-cultivated  country,  coming  back  to  supper 
when  it  was  dark.  A  particularly  fat  and  quiet  pony 


22  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

was  kept  for  Murcello's  mother,  who  was  no  great  ri< 
but  the  Contessa  and  Aurora  rode  anything  that  was 
brought  them,  as  the  men  did.  To  tell  the  truth,  the 
Campagna  horse  is  rarely  vicious,  and,  even  when  only 
half  broken,  can  be  ridden  by  a  lady  if  she  be  an  aver 
age  horsewoman. 

Everything  happened  as  usual.  The  party  reached 
the  cottage  in  time  for  a  late  luncheon,  rested  after 
wards,  and  then  rode  out.  But  the  Signora  Corbario 
would  not  go. 

"  Your  pony  looks  fatter  and  quieter  than  ever,"  said 
Maddalena  dell'  Armi  with  a  smile.  "If  you  do  not 
ride  him,  he  will  turn  into  a  fixture." 

"  He  is  already  a  very  solid  piece  of  furniture,"  ob 
served  Folco,  looking  at  the  sleek  animal. 

"  He  is  very  like  the  square  piano  I  practise  on,"  said 
Aurora.  "  He  has  such  a  flat  back  and  such  straight 
thick  legs." 

"More  like  an  organ,"  put  in  Marcello,  gravely. 
"  He  has  a  curious,  half -musical  wheeze  when  he  tries 
to  move,  like  the  organ  in  the  church  at  San  Dvmienico, 
when  the  bellows  begin  to  work." 

"  It  is  a  shame  to  make  fun  of  my  horse,"  answered 
the  Signora,  smiling.  "But  really  I  am  not  afraid 
of  him.  I  have  a  little  headache  from  the  drive,  that 
is  all." 

"  Take  some  phenacetine,"  said  Corbario  with  con 
cern.  "  Let  me  make  you  quite  comfortable  before  wo 
start.*1 

I  Ie  arranged  a  long  straw  chair  for  her  in  a  sheltered 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  23 

corner  of  the  verandah,  with  cushions  and  a  rug  and  a 
small  table  beside  it,  on  which  Marcello  placed  a  couple 
of  new  books  that  had  been  brought  down.  Then 
Folco  went  in  and  got  a  little  glass  bottle  of  tablets 
from  his  wife's  travelling-bag  and  gave  her  one.  She 
was  subject  to  headaches  and  always  had  the  medicine 
with  her.  It  was  the  only  remedy  she  ever  carried  or 
needed,  and  she  had  such  confidence  in  it  that  she  felt 
better  almost  as  soon  as  she  had  swallowed  the  tablet 
her  husband  gave  her. 

"  Let  me  stay  and  read  to  you,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps 
you  would  go  to  sleep." 

"  You  are  not  vain  of  your  reading,  my  dear,"  she 
answered  with  a  smile.  "No,  please  go  with  the 
others." 

Then  the  Contessa  offered  to  stay,  and  the  good 
Signora  had  to  use  a  good  deal  of  persuasion  to  make 
them  all  understand  that  she  would  much  rather  be 
left  alone.  They  mounted  and  rode  away  through  the 
trees  towards  the  beach,  whence  the  sound  of  the  small 
waves,  breaking  gently  under  the  afternoon  breeze, 
came  echoing  softly  up  to  the  cottage. 

The  two  young  people  rode  in  front,  in  silence;  Cor- 
bario  and  the  Contessa  followed  at  a  little  distance. 

44  How  good  you  are  to  my  wife  !  "  Folco  exclaimed 
presently,  as  they  emerged  upon  the  sand.  "  You  are 
like  a  sister  to  her  !  " 

Maddalena  glanced  at  him  through  her  veil.  She 
had  small  and  classic  features,  rather  hard  and  proud, 
and  her  eyes  were  of  a  dark  violet  colour,  which  is  very 


24  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

unusual,  especially  in  Italy.  But  she  came  from  the 
north.  Corbario  could  not  see  her  expression,  and  she 
knew  it. 

"You  are  good  to  her,  too,"  she  said  presently,  being 
anxious  to  be  just.  "  You  are  very  thoughtful  and 
kind." 

Corbario  thought  it  wiser  to  say  nothing,  and  merely 
bent  his  head  a  little  in  acknowledgment  of  what  he 
instinctively  felt  to  be  an  admission  on  the  part  of  a 
secret  adversary.  Maddalena  had  never  said  so  much 
before. 

"  If  you  were  not,  I  should  never  forgive  you,"  she 
added,  thinking  aloud. 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  quite  forgiven  me  as  it  is," 
Folco  answered  more  lightly. 

"  For  what  ?  " 

"  For  marrying  your  best  friend." 

The  little  speech  was  well  spoken,  so  utterly  without 
complaint,  or  rancour,  or  suggestion  of  earnestness,  that 
the  Contessa  could  only  smile. 

"  And  yet  you  admit  that  I  am  not  a  bad  husband," 
continued  Folco.  "  Should  you  accept  me,  or,  say,  my 
exact  counterpart,  for  Aurora,  in  a  year  or  two  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  whether  you  have  any  exact  counterpart," 
Maddalena  answered,  checking  the  sharp  denial  that 
rose  to  her  lips. 

"  Myself,  then,  just  for  the  sake  of  argument  ?  " 

"  What  an  absurd  question  !  Do  you  mind  tighten 
ing  the  girth  for  me  a  little  ?  My  saddle  is  slipping." 

She  drew  rein,  and  he  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  25 

check.  As  he  dismounted  he  glanced  at  Aurora's 
graceful  figure,  a  hundred  yards  ahead,  and  for  one 
instant  he  drew  his  eyelids  together  with  a  very  strange 
expression.  He  knew  that  the  Contessa  could  not  see 
his  face. 

Marcello  and  Aurora  had  been  companions  since 
they  were  children,  and  just  now  they  were  talking 
familiarly  of  the  place,  which  they  had  not  seen  since 
the  previous  year.  All  sorts  of  details  struck  them. 
Here,  there  was  more  sand  than  usual  ;  there,  a  large 
piece  of  timber  had  been  washed  ashore  in  the  winter 
gales ;  at  another  place  there  was  a  new  sand-drift  that 
had  quite  buried  the  scrub  on  the  top  of  the  bank  ; 
the  keeper  of  the  San  Lorenzo  tower  had  painted  his 
shutters  brown,  though  they  had  always  been  green  ; 
here  was  the  spot  where  Aurora  had  tumbled  off  her 
pony  when  she  was  only  twelve  years  old  —  so  long 
ago  !  And  here  —  they  looked  at  each  other  and  then 
quickly  at  the  sea,  for  it  was  here  that  Marcello,  in  a 
fit  of  boyish  admiration,  had  once  suddenly  kissed  her 
cheek,  telling  her  that  she  was  perfectly  beautiful. 
Even  now,  he  blushed  when  he  thought  of  it,  and  yet 
he  longed  to  do  it  again,  and  wondered  inwardly  what 
would  happen  if  he  did. 

As  for  Aurora,  though  she  looked  at  the  sea  for  a 
moment,  she  seemed  quite  self-possessed.  It  is  a 
strange  thing  that  if  a  boy  and  a  girl  are  brought  up  in 
just  the  same  way,  by  women,  and  without  many  com 
panions,  the  boy  should  generally  be  by  far  the  more 
shy  of  the  two  when  childhood  is  just  past. 


2t!  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  your  stepfather,  are  you 
not  ?  "  asked  Aurora,  so  suddenly  that  Marcello  started 
a  little  and  hesitated  slightly  before  he  answered. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  almost  directly,  "  of  course  I  am  ! 
Don't  you  like  him,  too  ?  " 

"I  used  to,"  answered  Aurora  in  a  low  voice,  "but 
now  his  eyes  frighten  me  —  sometimes.  For  instance, 
though  he  is  a  good  way  behind,  I  am  sure  he  is* look 
ing  at  me  now,  just  in  that  way." 

Marcello  turned  his  head  instinctively,  and  saw  that 
Folco  had  just  dismounted  to  tighten  the  girth  of  the 
Contessa's  saddle.  It  was  exactly  while  Aurora  was 
speaking  that  he  had  drawn  his  eyelids  together  with 
such  a  strange  expression  —  a  mere  coincidence,  no 
doubt,  but  one  that  would  have  startled  the  girl  if  she 
could  have  suddenly  seen  his  face. 

They  rode  on  without  waiting  for  the  others,  at  an 
even  canter  over  the  sand. 

"I  never  saw  anything  in  Folco's  eyes  that  could 
frighten  anybody,"  Marcello  said  presently. 

"  No,"  answered  Aurora.     "  Very  likely  not." 

Marcello  had  always  called  Corbario  by  his  first 
name,  and  as  he  grew  up  it  seemed  more  and  more 
natural  to  do  so.  Folco  was  so  young,  and  he  looked 
even  younger  than  he  was. 

"  It  must  be  your  imagination,"  Marcello  said. 

"  Women,"  said  Aurora,  as  if  she  were  as  near  thirty  as 
any  young  woman  would  acknowledge  herself,  "  women 
have  no  imagination.  That  is  why  we  have  so  much 
sense,"  she  added  thoughtfully. 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  27 

Marcello  was  so  completely  puzzled  by  this  extraor 
dinary  statement  that  he  could  find  nothing  to  say 
for  a  few  moments.  Then  he  felt  that  she  had 
attacked  his  idol,  and  that  Folco  must  be  defended. 

"  If  you  could  find  a  single  thing,  however  small,  to 
bring  against  him,  it  would  not  be  so  silly  to  say  that 
his  eyes  frighten  you." 

"  There  !  "  laughed  Aurora.  "  You  might  as  well 
say  that  because  at  this  moment  there  is  only  that  one 
little  cloud  near  the  sun,  there  is  no  cloud  at  all  !  " 

"  How  ridiculous  !  "  Marcello  expressed  his  con 
tempt  of  such  girlish  reasoning  by  putting  his  rough 
little  horse  to  a  gallop. 

"Men  always  say  that,"  retorted  Aurora,  with 
exasperating  calm.  "  I'll  race  you  to  the  tower  for  the 
first  choice  of  oranges  at  dessert.  They  are  not  very 
good  this  year,  you  know,  and  you  like  them." 

"  Don't  be  silly  !  "  Marcello  immediately  reined  his 
horse  back  to  a  walk,  and  looked  very  dignified. 

"It  is  impossible  to  please  you,"  observed  Aurora, 
slackening  her  pace  at  once. 

"It  is  impossible,  if  you  abuse  Folco." 

"  I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean  to  abuse  him,"  Aurora 
answered  meekly.  "  I  never  abuse  anybody." 

"  Women  never  do,  I  suppose,"  retorted  Marcello, 
with  a  little  snort  of  dissatisfaction. 

They  were  little  more  than  children  yet,  and  for 
pretty  nearly  five  minutes  neither  spoke  a  word,  as 
their  horses  walked  side  by  side. 

"  The  keeper  of  the  tower  has  more  chickens  this 


28  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

year,"  observed  Aurora.      "  I  can  see  them  running 
about." 

This  remark  was  evidently  intended  as  an  overture 
of  reconciliation.  It  acted  like  magic  upon  Marcello, 
who  hated  quarrelling,  and  was  moreover  inu.-ii  more 
in  love  with  the  girl  than  he  knew.  Instinctively  he 
put  out  his  left  hand  to  take  her  right.  They  always 
made  peace  by  taking  hands. 

But  Aurora's  did  not  move,  and  she  did  not  even 
turn  her  head  towards  him. 

"  Take  care  ! "  she  said  quickly,  in  a  low  tone. 
"They  are  watching  us." 

Marcello  looked  round  and  saw  that  the  others  were 
nearer  than  he  had  supposed,  and  he  blushed  foolishly. 

"  Well,  what  harm  would  there  be  if  you  gave  me 
your  hand  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  only  meant  —  " 

'  "  Yes,  I  understand,"  Aurora  answered,  in  the  same 
tone  as  before.  "  And  I  am  glad  you  like  me,  Mar- 
cello —  if  you  really  do." 

"  If  I  do  !  "  His  tone  was  full  of  youthful  and 
righteous  indignation. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  doubt  it,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  But  it  is  getting  to  be  different  now,  you  know.  We 
are  older,  and  somehow  everything  means  more,  even 
the  little  things." 

u  Oli  !  "  ejaculated  Marcello.  "  I  begin  to  see.  I 
suppose,"  he  added,  with  what  seemed  to  him  reckless 
brutality,  "that  if  I  kissed  you  now  you  would  be 
furious." 

He  glanced  uneasily  at  Aurora's  face  to  note  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  29 

effect  of  this  terrible  speech.  The  result  was  not 
exactly  what  he  had  expected.  A  faint  colour  rose  in 
her  cheeks,  and  then  she  laughed. 

"  When  you  do,"  she  said,  "  I  would  rather  it  should 
not  be  before  people." 

"  I  shall  try  to  remember  that,"  answered  Marcello, 
considerably  emboldened. 

"  Yes,  do  !  It  would  be  so  humiliating  if  I  boxed 
your  ears  in  the  presence  of  witnesses." 

"  You  would  not  dare,"  laughed  Marcello. 

From  a  distance,  as  Aurora  had  guessed,  Folco  was 
watching  them  while  he  quietly  talked  to  the  Contessa ; 
and  as  he  watched,  he  understood  what  a  change  had 
taken  place  since  last  year,  when  he  had  seen  Marcello 
and  Aurora  riding  over  the  same  stretch  of  sand  on 
the  same  little  horses.  He  ventured  a  reflection,  to 
see  what  his  companion  would  answer. 

"  I ,  daresay  many  people  would  say  that  those  two 
young  people  were  made  for  each  other." 

Maddalena  looked  at  him  inquiringly  and  then 
glanced  at  her  daughter. 

"And  what  do  you  say?"  she  asked,  with  some 
curiosity. 

"  I  say  '  no.'     And  you  ?  " 

"  I  agree  with  you.  Aurora  is  like  me  —  like  what 
I  was.  Marcello  would  bore  her  to  death  in  six  months, 
and  Aurora  would  drive  him  quite  mad." 

Corbario  smiled. 

"  I  had  hoped,"  he  said,  "  that  women  with  marriage 
able  daughters  would  think  Marcello  a  model  husband. 


30  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

But  of  course  I  am  prejudiced.  I  have  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  his  bringing  up  during  the  last  four  years." 

"  No  one  can  say  that  you  have  not  done  your  duty 
by  him,"  Maddalena  answered.  "  I  wish  I  could  feel 
that  I  had  done  as  well  by  Aurora  —  indeed  I  do  !  " 

"  You  have,  but  you  had  quite  a  different  nature  to 
deal  with." 

"  I  should  think  so  !     It  is  my  own." 

Corbario  heard  the  little  sigh  as  she  turned  her  head 
away,  and  being  a  wise  man  he  said  nothing  in  answer. 
He  was  not  a  Roman,  if  indeed  he  were  really  an  Italian 
at  all,  but  he  had  vaguely  heard  the  Contessa's  story. 
She  had  been  married  very  young  to  a  parliamentary 
high-light,  who  had  made  much  noise  in  his  day,  had 
spent  more  than  half  of  her  fortune  after  getting  rid 
of  his  own,  and  had  been  forgotten  on  the  morrow  of 
his  premature  death.  It  was  said  that  she  had  loved 
another  man  with  all  her  heart,  but  Corbario  had  never 
known  who  it  was. 

The  sun  was  almost  setting  when  they  turned  home 
ward,  and  it  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  cottage. 
They  found  an  unexpected  arrival  installed  beside  the 
Signora  in  the  doorway  of  the  sitting-room. 

"  Professor  Kalmon  is  here,"  said  the  Signora's  voice 
out  of  the  gloom.  "  I  have  asked  him  to  stay  till  to 
morrow." 

The  Professor  rose  up  in  the  shadow  and  came  for 
ward,  just  as  a  servant  brought  a  lamp.  He  was 
celebrated  as  a  traveller,  and  occupied  the  chair  of  com 
parative  physiology  in  the  University  of  Milan.  He 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  31 

belonged  to  the  modern  type  of  scientific  man,  which 
has  replaced  the  one  of  fifty  years  ago,  who  lived  in  a 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  smoked  a  long  pipe,  and 
was  always  losing  his  belongings  through  absence  of 
mind.  The  modern  professor  is  very  like  other  human 
beings  in  dress  and  appearance,  and  has  even  been 
known  to  pride  himself  on  the  fit  of  his  coat,  just 
like  the  common  people. 

There  were  mutual  greetings,  for  the  Professor  knew 
all  the  party,  and  everybody  liked  him.  He  was  a  big 
man,  with  a  well-kept  brown  beard,  a  very  clear  com 
plexion,  and  bright  brown  eyes  that  looked  as  if  they 
would  never  need  spectacles. 

"And  where  have  you  been  since  we  last  saw  you? " 
asked  Corbario. 

"  Are  your  pockets  full  of  snakes  this  time  ?  "  asked 
Aurora. 

The  Professor  looked  at  her  and  smiled,  realising 
that  she  was  no  longer  the  child  she  had  been  when  he 
had  seen  her  last,  and  that  she  was  very  good  to  look 
at.  His  brown  eyes  beamed  upon  her  benevolently. 

"Ah,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  see  it  is  all  over,"  he 
said.  "  You  will  never  pull  my  beard  again  and  turn 
my  pockets  inside  out  for  specimens  when  I  come  back 
from  my  walks  on  the  beach." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  you  or  your  speci 
mens  ?  "  laughed  Aurora. 

"  I  have  got  a  terrible  thing  in  my  waistcoat  pocket," 
the  Professor  answered.  "  Something  you  might  very 
well  be  afraid  of." 


32  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44  What  is  it  ?  It  must  be  very  small  to  be  in  your 
waistcoat  pocket." 

44  It  is  a  new  form  of  death." 

He  beamed  on  everybody  with  increasing  benevo 
lence  ;  but  somehow  nobody  smiled,  and  the  Signora 
Corbario  shivered  and  drew  her  light  cloak  more 
closely  round  her,  as  the  first  gust  of  the  night  breeze 
came  up  from  the  rustling  reeds  that  grew  in  the  pool 
below. 

41  It  is  time  to  get  ready  for  supper,"  said  Folco.  4t  I 
hope  you  are  not  hungry,  Kalmon,  for  you  will  not  get 
anything  very  elaborate  to  eat !  " 

44  Bread  and  cheese  will  do,  my  dear  fellow." 

When  Italians  go  to  the  country  they  take  nothing 
of  the  city  with  them.  They  like  the  contrast  to  be 
complete  ;  they  love  the  total  absence  of  restraint ; 
they  think  it  delightful  to  dine  in  their  shooting-coats 
and  to  eat  coarse  fare.  If  they  had  to  dress  for  dinner 
it  would  not  be  the  country  at  all,  nor  if  dinner  had  to 
begin  with  soup  and  end  with  sweets  just  as  it  does  in 
town.  They  eat  extraordinary  messes  that  would  make 
a  Frenchman  turn  pale  and  a  German  look  grave. 
They  make  portentous  pasties,  rich  with  everything 
under  the  sun  ;  they  eat  fat  boiled  beef,  and  raw  fen 
nel,  and  green  almonds,  and  vast  quantities  of  cream 
cheese,  and  they  drink  sour  wine  like  water  ;  and  it 
all  agrees  with  them  perfectly,  so  that  they  come  back 
to  the  city  refreshed  and  rested  after  a  gastronomic 
treatment  which  would  bring  any  other  European  to 
death's  door. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  33 

The  table  was  set  out  on  the  verandah  that  evening, 
as  usual  in  spring,  and  little  by  little  the  Professor 
absorbed  the  conversation,  for  they  all  asked  him  ques 
tions,  few  of  which  could  be  answered  shortly.  He 
was  one  of  those  profoundly  cultivated  Italians  who 
are  often  to  be  met  nowadays,  but  whose  gifts  it  is  not 
easy  to  appreciate  except  in  a  certain  degree  of  inti 
macy.  They  are  singularly  modest  men  as  a  rule,  and 
are  by  no  means  those  about  whom  there  is  the  most 
talk  in  the  world. 

The  party  sat  in  their  places  when  supper  was  over, 
with  cloaks  and  coats  thrown  over  them  against  the 
night  air,  while  Kalmon  talked  of  all  sorts  of  things 
that  seemed  to  have  the  least  possible  connection  with 
each  other,  but  which  somehow  came  up  quite  natu 
rally.  He  went  from  the  last  book  on  Dante  to  a  new 
discovery  in  chemistry,  thence  to  Japanese  monks  and 
their  beliefs,  and  came  back  smiling  to  the  latest  devel 
opment  of  politics,  which  led  him  quite  naturally  to  the 
newest  play,  labour  and  capital,  the  German  Emperor, 
and  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

"  I  believe  you  know  everything ! "  exclaimed 
Marcello,  with  an  admiring  look.  "Or  else  I  know 
nothing,  which  is  really  more  probable  !  "  The  boy 
laughed. 

"  You  have  not  told  us  about  the  new  form  of  death 
yet,"  said  Aurora,  leaning  on  her  elbows  and  burying 
her  young  hands  in  her  auburn  hair  as  she  looked 
across  the  table  at  Kalmon. 

"  You  will  never  sleep  again  if  I  tell  you  about  it," 


81  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

answered  the  Professor,  opening  his  brown  eyes  very 
wide  and  trying  to  look  terrible,  which  was  quite  im 
possible,  because  he  had  such  a  kindly  face.  "  You  do 
not  look  frightened  at  all,"  he  added,  pretending  to  be 
disappointed. 

"  Let  me  see  the  thing,"  Aurora  said.  "  Perhaps  we 
shall  all  be  frightened." 

"It  looks  very  innocent,"  Kalmon  answered.  "  Here 
it  is." 

He  took  a  small  leather  case  from  his  pocket,  opened 
it,  and  drew  out  a  short  blue  glass  tube,  with  a  screw 
top.  It  contained  half  a  dozen  white  tablets,  appar 
ently  just  like  those  in  common  use  for  five-grain  doses 
of  quinine. 

A  little  murmur  of  disappointment  went  around  the 
table.  The  new  form  of  death  looked  very  common 
place.  Corbario  was  the  only  one  who  showed  any 
interest. 

"  May  I  see?"  he  asked,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
take  the  tube. 

Kalmon  would  not  give  it  to  him,  but  held  the 
tube  before  his  eyes  under  the  bright  light  of  the 
lamp. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  make  it  a  rule  never 
to  let  it  go  out  of  my  hands.  You  understand,  don't 
you?  If  it  were  passed  round,  some  one  might  lay  it 
down,  it  might  be  forgotten,  somebody  might  take  it 
for  something  else." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Folco,  looking  intently  at  the  tube, 
as  though  he  could  understand  something  about  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  35 

contents  by  mere  inspection.  "You  are  quite  right. 
You  should  take  no  risks  with  such  things  —  especially 
as  they  look  so  innocent !  " 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  again,  as  if  satisfied,  and 
his  eyes  met  the  Contessa's  at  the  same  moment* 
There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  have  looked 
at  him  just  then,  but  he  rested  one  elbow  on  the  table 
arid  shaded  his  eyes  from  the  light. 

"  It  is  strange  to  reflect,"  said  Kalmon,  looking  at 
the  tube  thoughtfully,  "  that  one  of  those  little  things 
would  be  enough  to  put  a  Hercules  out  of  misery,  with 
out  leaving  the  slightest  trace  which  science  could 
discover." 

Corbario  was  still  shading  his  eyes  from  the 
light. 

"  How  would  one  die  if  one  took  it  ?  "  asked  Aurora. 
"  Very  suddenly  ?  " 

"  I  call  it  the  sleeping  death,"  answered  the  Pro 
fessor.  "  The  poisoned  person  sinks  into  a  sweet 
sleep  in  a  few  minutes,  smiling  as  if  enjoying  the  most 
delightful  dreams." 

"  And  one  never  wakes  up  ?  "  inquired  Marcello. 

"Never.  It  is  impossible,  I  believe.  I  have  made 
experiments  on  animals,  and  have  not  succeeded  in 
waking  them  by  any  known  means." 

"  I  suppose  it  congests  the  brain,  like  opium,"  ob 
served  Corbario,  quietly. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !  "  answered  Kalmon,  looking 
benevolently  at  the  little  tube  which  contained  his  dis 
covery.  "I  tell  you  it  leaves  no  trace  whatever,  not 


36  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

even  as  much  as  is  left  by  death  from  an  electric  cur 
rent.  And  it  has  no  taste,  no  smell,  —  it  seems  the 
most  innocent  stuff  in  the  world." 

Corbario's  hand  again  lay  on  the  table  and  he  was 
gazing  out  into  the  night,  as  if  he  were  curious  about 
the  weather.  The  moon  was  just  rising,  being  past  the 
full. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  of  the  poison  ?  "  he  asked  in  an 
idle  tone. 

44  Oh,  no  !  This  is  only  a  small  supply  which  I  carry 
with  me  for  experiments.  I  have  made  enough  to 
send  all  our  thirty-three  millions  of  Italians  to  sleep 
for  ever  !  " 

Kalmon  laughed  pleasantly. 

"If  this  could  be  properly  used,  civilisation  would 
make  a  gigantic  stride,"  he  added.  "  In  war,  for 
instance,  how  infinitely  pleasanter  and  more  aesthetic 
it  would  be  to  send  the  enemy  to  sleep,  with  the  most 
delightful  dreams,  never  to  wake  again,  than  to  tear 
people  to  pieces  with  artillery  and  rifle  bullets,  and  to 
blow  up  ships  with  hundreds  of  poor  devils  on  board, 
who  are  torn  limb  from  limb  by  the  explosion." 

44  The  difficulty,"  observed  the  Contessa,  44  would  be 
to  induce  the  enemy  to  take  your  poison  quietly. 
What  if  the  enemy  objected  ?  " 

44 1  should  put  it  into  their  water  supply,"  said 
Kalmon. 

44  Poison  the  water  !  "  cried  the  Signora  Corbario. 
44  How  barbarous  ! " 

44  Much  less  barbarous  than  shedding  oceans  of  blood 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  37 

Only  think  —  they  would  all  go  to  sleep.  That  would 
be  all." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Corbario,  almost  carelessly,  "  that 
there  was  no  longer  any  such  thing  as  a  poison  that  left 
no  traces  or  signs.  Can  you  not  generally  detect  vege 
table  poisons  by  the  mode  of  death  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Professor,  returning  the  glass 
tube  to  its  case  and  the  latter  to  his  pocket.  "  But 
please  to  remember  that  although  we  can  prove  to 
our  own  satisfaction  that  some  things  really  exist, 
we  cannot  prove  that  any  imaginable  thing  outside 
our  experience  cannot  possibly  exist.  Imagine  the 
wildest  impossibility  you  can  think  of ;  you  will  not 
induce  a  modern  man  of  science  to  admit  the  im 
possibility  of  it  as  absolute.  Impossibility  is  now  a 
merely  relative  term,  my  dear  Corbario,  and  only 
means  great  improbability.  Now,  to  illustrate  what 
I  mean,  it  is  altogether  improbable  that  a  devil  with 
horns  and  hoofs  and  a  fiery  tail  should  suddenly  ap 
pear,  pick  me  up  out  of  this  delightful  circle,  and  fly 
away  with  me.  But  you  cannot  induce  me  to  deny 
the  possibility  of  such  a  thing." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said  the 
Signora,  who  was  a  religious  woman. 

Kalmon  looked  at  her  a  moment  and  then  broke 
into  a  penl  of  laughter  that  was  taken  up  by  the  rest, 
and  in  which  the  good  lady  joined. 

"  You  brought  it  on  yourself,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  Kalmon  answered.  "  I  did.  From  your 
point  of  view  it  is  better  to  admit  the  possibility  of  a 


38  WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND 

mediieval  devil  with  horns  than  to  have  no  religion  at 
all.  Half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread." 

"  Is  that  stuff  of  yours  animal,  vegetable,  or 
mineral?"  asked  Corbario  as  the  laughter  subsided. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Professor.  kt  Animal, 
vegetable,  mineral?  Those  are  antiquated  distinctions, 
like  the  four  elements  of  the  alchemists." 

"Well  —  but  what  is  the  thing,  then?"  asked 
Corbario,  almost  impatiently.  "  What  should  you 
call  it  in  scientific  language?" 

Kalmon  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  collect 
his  thoughts. 

"  In  scientific  language,"  he  began,  "  it  is  probably 
H  three  C  seven,  parenthesis,  H  two  C  plus  C  four 
O  -five,  close  parenthesis,  HC  three  O." 

Corbario  laughed  carelessly. 

"  I  am  no  wiser  than  before,"  he  said. 

uNor  I,"  answered  the  Professor.     "Not  a  bit." 

"  It  is  much  simpler  to  call  it  4  the  sleeping  death,' 
is  it  not  ?  "  suggested  the  Contessa. 

"  Much  simpler,  for  that  is  precisely  what  it  is." 

It  was  growing  late,  according  to  country  ideas,  and 
the  party  rose  from  the  table  and  began  to  move 
about  a  little  before  going  to  bed.  The  moon  had 
risen  high  by  this  time. 

Marcello  and  Aurora,  unheeded  by  the  rest,  went 
round  the  verandah  to  the  other  side  of  the  house 
and  stood  still  a  moment,  looking  out  at  the  trees 
and  listening  to  the  sounds  of  the  night.  Down  by 
the  pool  a  frog  croaked  now  and  then;  from  a  distance 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  39 

came  the  plaintive,  often  repeated  cry  of  a  solitary 
owlet;  the  night  breeze  sighed  through  the  long 
grass  and  the  low  shrubbery. 

The  boy  and  girl  turned  to  each  other,  put  out  their 
hands  and  then  their  arms,  and  clasped  each  other 
silently,  and  kissed.  Then  they  walked  demurely 
back  to  their  elders,  without  exchanging  a  word. 

"We  have  had  to  give  you  the  little  room  at  the 
end  of  the  cottage,"  Corbario  was  saying  to  Kalmon. 
"  It  is  the  only  one  left  while  the  Contessa  is  here." 

"I  should  sleep  soundly  on  bare  boards  to-night," 
Kalmon  answered.  "I  have  been  walking  all  day." 

Corbario  went  with  him,  carrying  a  candle,  and 
shielding  the  flame  from  the  breeze  with  his  hand. 
The  room  was  furnished  with  the  barest  necessities, 
like  most  country  rooms  in  Italy.  There  were  wooden 
pegs  on  which  to  hang  clothes  instead  of  a  wardrobe, 
an  iron  bedstead,  a  deal  wash-stand,  a  small  deal  table, 
a  rush-bottomed  chair.  The  room  had  only  one  win 
dow,  which  was  also  the  only  door,  opening  to  the 
floor  upon  the  verandah. 

u  You  can  bolt  the  window,  if  you  like,"  said  Cor 
bario  when  he  had  bidden  the  Professor  good-night, 
"  but  there  are  no  thieves  about." 

"I  always  sleep  with  my  windows  open,"  Kalmon 
answered,  "  and  I  have  no  valuables." 

"No?     Good-night  again." 

"Good-night." 

Corbario  went  out,  leaving  him  the  candle,  and 
turned  the  corner  of  the  verandah.  Then  he  stood 


40  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

still  a  long  time,  leaning  against  one  of  the  wooden 
pillars  and  looking  out.  Perhaps  the  moonlight  fall 
ing  through  the  stiff  little  trees  upon  the  long  grass 
and  shrubbery  reminded  him  of  some  scene  familiar 
long  ago.  He  smiled  quietly  to  himself  as  he  stood 
there. 

Three  hours  later  he  was  there  again,  in  almost 
exactly  the  same  attitude.  He  must  have  been  cold, 
for  the  night  breeze  was  stronger,  and  he  wore  only 
his  light  sleeping  clothes  and  his  feet  were  bare.  He 
shivered  a  little  from  time  to  time,  and  his  face  looked 
very  white,  for  the  moon  was  now  high  in  the  heavens 
and  the  light  fell  full  upon  him.  His  right  hand  was 
tightly  closed,  as  if  it  held  some  small  object  fast,  and 
he  was  listening  intently,  first  to  the  right,  whence  he 
had  come,  then  to  the  left,  and  then  he  turned  his  ear 
towards  the  trees,  through  which  the  path  led  away 
towards  the  hut  where  the  men  slept.  But  there  was 
no  sound  except  the  sighing  of  the  wind.  The  frog 
by  the  pool  had  stopped  croaking,  and  the  melancholy 
cry  of  the  owlet  had  ceased. 

Corbario  went  softly  on,  trying  the  floor  of  the 
verandah  with  his  bare  feet  at  each  step,  lest  the 
boards  should  creak  a  little  under  his  weight.  He 
reached  the  window  door  of  his  own  room,  and 
slipped  into  the  darkness  without  noise. 

Kalmon  cared  little  for  quail-shooting,  and  as  the 
carriage  was  going  back  to  Rome  he  took  advantage 
of  it  to  reach  the  city,  and  took  his  departure  about 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  41 

"  By  the  way,  how  did  you  sleep  ?  "  asked  Corbario 
as  he  shook  hands  at  parting.  "I  forgot  to  ask 
you." 

"Soundly,  thank  you,"  answered  the  Professor. 

And  he  drove  away,  waving  his  felt  hat  to  his 
hosts. 


CHAPTER  III 

MARCELLO  coughed  a  little  as  he  and  Corbario 
trudged  home  through  the  sand  under  the  hot  May  sun. 
It  was  sultry,  though  there  were  few  clouds,  and  every 
thing  that  grew  looked  suddenly  languid  ;  each  flower 
and  shrub  gave  out  its  own  peculiar  scent  abundantly, 
the  smell  of  last  year's  rotting  leaves  and  twigs  all  at 
once  returned  and  mingled  with  the  odours  of  green 
things  and  of  the  earth  itself,  and  the  heavy  air  \\as 
over-rich  with  it  all,  and  hard  to  breathe.  By  and  by 
the  clouds  would  pile  themselves  up  into  vast  grey 
and  black  fortresses,  far  away  beyond  Rome,  between 
the  Alban  and  the  Samnite  hills,  and  the  lightning 
would  dart  at  them  and  tear  them  to  pieces  in  spite, 
while  the  thunder  roared  out  at  each  home-thrust  that 
it  was  well  done  ;  and  then  the  spring  rain  would  sweep 
the  Campagna,  by  its  length  and  breadth,  from  the 
mountains  to  the  sea,  and  the  world  would  be  refreshed. 
But  now  it  was  near  noon  and  a  heavy  weariness  lay 
upon  the  earth. 

"  You  are  tired,"  said  Corbario,  as  they  reached  the 
shade  of  some  trees,  less  than  half  a  mile  from  the 
cottage.  u  Let  us  sit  down  for  a  while." 

They  sat  down,  where  they  could  see  the  sea.  It 
was  dull  and  glassy  under  the  high  sun;  here  and 

42 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  43 

there,  far  out,  the  sluggish  currents  made  dark,  irregu 
lar  streaks. 

Corbario  produced  cigarettes  and  offered  one  to 
Marcello,  but  the  boy  would  not  smoke  ;  he  said  that 
it  made  him  cough. 

"  I  should  smoke  all  the  time,  if  I  were  quite  well,'* 
he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  And  do  many  other  things  that  young  men  do,  I 
daresay,"  laughed  Corbario.  "Ride  steeplechases,  play 
cards  all  night,  and  drink  champagne  at  breakfast." 

"Perhaps."  Marcello  was  amused  at  the  picture. 
"  I  wonder  whether  I  ever  shall,"  he  added. 

Corbario  glanced  at  him  curiously.  There  was  the 
faintest  accent  of  longing  in  the  tone,  which  was  quite 
new. 

"Why  not?"  Folco  asked,  still  smiling.  "It  is 
merely  a  question  of  health,  my  dear  boy.  There  is 
no  harm  in  steeplechases  if  you  do  not  break  your  neck, 
nor  in  playing  cards  if  you  do  not  play  high,  nor  in 
drinking  a  glass  of  champagne  now  and  then  —  no 
harm  at  all,  that  I  can  see.  But,  of  course,  so  long  as 
your  lungs  are  delicate,  you  must  be  careful." 

"  Confound  my  lungs  ! "  exclaimed  Marcello  with 
unusual  energy.  "  I  believe  that  I  am  much  stronger 
than  any  of  you  think." 

"  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  believe  it  too,"  Corbario 
answered  encouragingly. 

"  And  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  would  do  me  good  to 
forget  all  about  them  and  live  as  if  there  were  nothing 
the  matter  with  me.  Don't  you  think  so  yourself  ?  '' 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND 


Corbario  made  a  gesture  of  doubt,  as  if  it  were 
possible  aftvr  all. 

"Of  course  I  don't  mean  dissipation,"  Marcello  went 
on  to  say,  suddenly  assuming  the  manner  of  an  elderly 
censor  of  morals,  simply  because  he  did  not  know  what 
he  was  talking  about.  "I  don't  mean  reckless  dis 
sipation." 

"  Of  course  not,"  Folco  answered  gravely.  "  You  see, 
there  are  two  sorts  of  dissipation.  You  must  not  for 
get  that.  The  one  kind  means  dissipating  your  fortune 
and  your  health;  the  other  merely  means  dissipating 
melancholy,  getting  rid  of  care  now  and  then,  and  of 
everything  that  bores  one.  That  is  the  harmless  sort." 

"  What  they  call  fc  harmless  excitement '  —  yes,  that 
is  what  I  should  like  sometimes.  There  are  days  when 
I  feel  that  I  must  have  it.  It  is  as  if  the  blood  went  to 
my  head,  and  my  nerves  are  all  on  edge,  and  I  wish 
something  would  happen,  I  don't  know  what,  but  some 
thing,  something  I  " 

"  I  know  exactly  what  you  mean,  my  dear  boy,"  said 
Corbario  in  a  tone  of  sympathy.  "  You  see  I  am  not 
very  old  myself,  after  all  —  barely  thirty  —  not  quite, 
in  fact.  I  could  call  myself  twenty-nine  if  it  were  not 
so  much  more  respectable  to  be  older." 

"  Yes.  But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  feel  just 
what  I  do  now  and  then  ?  "  Marcello  asked  the  ques 
tion  in  considerable  surprise.  "Do  you  really  know 
that  sensation  ?  That  burning  restlessness  —  that 
something  like  what  the  earth  must  feel  before  a 
thunderstorm  —  like  the  air  at  this  moment?" 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  \       45 

Not  a  muscle  of  Folco's  still  face  moved. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  I  know  it  very  well. 
It  is  nothing  but  the  sudden  wish  for  a  little  harmless 
excitement,  nothing  else  in  the  world,  my  dear  boy, 
and  it  is  certainly  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  It  does 
not  follow  that  it  is  at  all  convenient  to  yield  to  it,  but 
we  feel  it  because  we  lead  such  a  very  quiet  life." 

"But  surely,  we  are  perfectly  happy,"  observed 
Marcello. 

"Perfectly,  absolutely  happy.  I  do  not  believe  that 
there  are  any  happier  people  in  the  world  than  we 
three,  your  mother,  you,  and  I.  We  have  not  a  wish 
unfulfilled." 

"No,  except  that  one,  when  it  comes." 

"  And  that  does  not  count  in  my  case,"  answered 
Folco.  "  You  see  I  have  had  a  good  deal  of  — '  harmless 
excitement '  in  my  life,  and  I  know  just  what  it  is  like, 
and  that  it  is  quite  possible  to  be  perfectly  happy  with 
out  it.  In  fact,  I  am.  But  you  have  never  had  any  at 
all,  and  it  is  as  absurd  to  suppose  that  young  birds  will 
not  try  to  fly  as  that  young  men  will  not  want  amuse 
ment,  now  and  then." 

"  I  suppose  that  women  cannot  always  understand 
that,"  said  Marcello,  after  a  moment. 

"  Women,"  replied  Folco,  unmoved,  "  do  not  always 
distinguish  quite  closely  between  excitement  that  is 
harmless  for  a  man  and  excitement  which  is  not. 
To  tell  the  truth,"  he  added,  with  a  laugh,  "they 
hardly  ever  distinguish  at  all,  and  it  is  quite  useless  to 
talk  to  them  about  it." 


46      •  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFF  KM  > 


"  But 


it  surely,  there  are  exceptions  ?  " 

"  Not  many.  That  is  the  reason  why  there  is  a  sort 
of  freemasonry  among  men  of  the  world,  a  kind  of  tacit 
agreement  that  women  need  not  be  told  what  goes  on 
at  the  clubs,  and  at  men's  dinners,  and  late  at  night 
when  old  friends  have  spent  an  evening  together.  Not 
that  there  is  any  harm  in  it  all ;  but  women  would  not 
understand.  They  have  their  innocent  little  mysteries 
which  they  keep  from  us,  and  we  have  harmless  little 
secrets  which  we  do  not  let  them  know." 

Folco  laughed  softly  at  his  own  way  of  putting  it, 
and  perhaps  because  Marcello  so  easily  accepted  his 
point  of  view. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  wonder  whether  my  mother 
would  not  understand  that.  It  seems  so  simple  !  " 

4*  She  will,  when  the  time  comes,  no  doubt,"  answered 
Corbario.  "  Your  mother  is  a  great  exception,  my  dear 
boy.  On  the  other  hand,  she  is  so  anxious  about  your 
health  just  now,  that,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  not  say 
anything  about  feeling  the  want  of  a  little  excitement. 
Of  course  your  life  is  monotonous.  I  know  it.  But 
there  is  nothing  more  monotonous  than  getting  well, 
is  there  ?  The  best  part  of  it  is  the  looking  forward 
to  what  one  will  do  when  one  is  quite  strong.  You 
and  I  can  talk  of  that,  sometimes,  and  build  castles  in 
the  air;  but  it  is  of  no  use  to  give  your  mother  the 
idea  that  you  are  beating  your  wings  against  the  bars 
of  your  cage,  is  it  ?  " 

Folco  was  quite  lyric  that  day,  but  the  words  made 
exactly  the  impression  he  wished. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  47 

"  You  are  right,"  Marcello  said.  "  You  always  are. 
There  is  nobody  like  you,  Folco.  You  are  an  elder 
brother  to  me,  and  yet  you  don't  preach.  I  often  tell 
my  mother  so." 

This  was  true,  and  what  Marcello  told  her  added 
to  her  happiness,  if  anything  could  do  that,  and  she 
encouraged  the  two  to  go  off  together  as  much  as 
possible.  She  even  suggested  that  they  should  go 
down  to  San  Domenico  for  a  fortnight,  to  look  after 
the  great  Calabrian  estate. 

They  rose  and  began  to  walk  toward  the  cottage. 
The  shooting  had  been  good  that  morning,  as  quail- 
shooting  goes,  and  the  man  who  acted  as  keeper, 
loader,  gardener,  and  general  factotum,  and  who  went 
out  with  any  one  who  wanted  to  shoot,  had  gone  on 
to  the  cottage  with  the  bag,  the  two  guns,  and  the 
animal  which  he  called  his  dog.  The  man's  name  was 
Ercole,  that  is  to  say,  Hercules;  and  though  he  was 
not  a  giant,  he  certainly  bore  a  closer  resemblance  to 
the  hero  than  his  dog  did  to  dogs  in  general. 

"  He  was  born  in  my  house,"  Ercole  said,  when  any 
one  asked  questions.  "  Find  a  better  one  if  you  can. 
His  name  ?  I  call  him  Nino,  short  for  John,  because 
he  barks  so  well  at  night.  You  don't  understand? 
It  is  the  'voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness.'  Did 
you  never  go  to  Sunday  school  ?  Or  do  you  call  this 
place  a  garden,  a  park,  a  public  promenade  ?  I  call 
it  a  desert.  There  are  not  even  cats." 

When  an  Italian  countryman  says  of  a  place  that 
even  cats  will  not  stay  in  it,  he  considers  that  he  has 


48  WHOSOEVER   SHALL,  OFFEND 

evoked  a  picture  of  ultimate  desolation  that  cannot  be 
surpassed.  It  had  always  been  Ercole's  dream  to  live 
in  the  city,  though  he  did  not  look  like  a  man  naturally 
intended  for  town  life.  He  was  short  and  skinny, 
though  ho  was  as  wiry  as  a  monkey;  his  face  was 
slightly  pitted  with  the  smallpox,  and  the  malaria  of 
many  summers  had  left  him  with  a  complexion  of  the 
colour  of  cheap  leather;  he  had  eyes  like  a  hawk, 
matted  1  thick  hair,  and  jagged  white  teeth.  He  and 
liis  fustian  clothes  smelt  of  earth,  burnt  gunpowder, 
goat's  cheese,  garlic,  and  bad  tobacco.  He  was  no 
great  talker,  but  his  language  was  picturesque  and  to 
the  point ;  and  he  feared  neither  man  nor  beast,  neither 
tramp  nor  horned  cattle,  nor  yet  wild  boar.  He  was 
no  respecter  of  persons  at  all.  The  land  where  the 
cottage  was  had  belonged  to  a  great  Roman  family, 
now  ruined,  and  when  the  land  had  been  sold,  he  had 
apparently  been  part  of  the  bargain,  and  had  come  into 
the  possession  of  the  Signora  Corbario  with  it.  In  his 
lonely  conversations  with  Nino,  he  had  expressed  his 
opinion  of  each  member  of  the  family  with  frankness. 
"You  are  a  good  dog,  Nino,"  he  would  say.  "You 
are  the  consolation  of  my  soul.  But  you  do  not  under 
stand  these  tilings.  Corbario  is  an  assassin.  Money, 
money,  money!  That  is  all  he  thinks  of  from  morning 
till  night.  I  know  it,  because  he  never  speaks  of  it, 
and  yet  he  never  gives  away  anything.  It  is  all  for 
himself,  the  Signora's  millions,  the  boy's  millions,  every 
thing.  When  I  look  at  his  face,  a  chill  seizes  me, 
and  I  tremble  as  when  I  have  the  fever.  You  never 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  49 

had  the  malaria  fever,  Nino.  Dogs  don't  have  it,  do 
they?" 

At  the  question  Nino  turned  his  monstrous  head  to 
one  side  and  looked  along  his  muzzle  at  his  master.  If 
he  had  possessed  a  tail  he  would  have  wagged  it,  or 
thumped  the  hard  ground  with  it  a  few  times ;  but  he 
had  none.  He  had  probably  lost  it  in  some  wild  battle 
of  his  stormy  youth,  fought  almost  to  death  against  the 
huge  Campagna  sheep-dogs ;  or  perhaps  a  wolf  had  got 
it,  or  perhaps  he  had  never  had  a  tail  at  all.  Ercole 
had  probably  forgotten,  and  it  did  not  really  matter 
much. 

"  Corbario  is  an  assassin,"  he  said.  "  Remember 
that,  Nino.  As  for  his  poor  lady,  she  is  a  little  lack 
ing,  or  she  would  never  have  married  him.  But  she 
is  a  saint,  and  what  do  saints  want  with  cleverness? 
They  go  to  paradise.  Does  that  need  much  sense  ? 
We  should  all  go  if  we  could.  Why  do  you  cock  your 
head  on  one  side  and  look  at  me  like  a  Christian  ? 
Are  you  trying  to  make  me  think  you  have  a  soul? 
You  are  made  of  nothing  but  corn  meal  and  water,  and 
a  little  wool,  poor  beast !  But  you  have  more  sense 
than  the  Signora,  and  you  are  not  an  assassin,  like  her 
husband." 

At  this,  Nino  threw  himself  upon  his  back  with  his 
four  legs  in  the  air  and  squirmed  with  sheer  delight, 
showing  his  jagged  teeth  and  the  roof  of  a  very  terrible 
mouth,  and  emitting  a  series  of  wolfish  snorts ;  after 
which  he  suddenly  rolled  over  upon  his  feet  again, 
shook  himself  till  his  shaggy  coat  bristled  all  over  his 


50  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

body,  walked  sedately  to  the  open  door  of  the  hut,  and 
sat  down  to  look  at  the  weather. 

"  He  is  almost  a  Christian,"  Ercole  remarked  under 
his  breath,  as  if  he  were  afraid  the  dog  might  hear  the 
compliment  and  grow  too  vain. 

For  Ercole  was  a  reticent  man,  and  though  he  told 
Nino  what  he  thought  about  people,  he  never  told 
any  one  else.  Marcello  was  the  only  person  to  whom 
he  ever  showed  any  inclination  to  attach  himself.  He 
regarded  even  the  Contessa  with  suspicion,  perhaps 
merely  because  she  was  a  woman  ;  and  as  for  Aurora, 
girls  did  not  count  at  all  in  his  cosmogony. 

"  God   made   all   the  other   animals   before   making 
women,"  he  observed  contemptuously  one  day,  when  he 
had  gone  out  alone  with  Marcello. 
, "  I  like  them,"  laughed  the  boy. 

"  So  did  Adam,"  retorted  Ercole,  "  and  you  see  what 
came  of  it." 

No  answer  to  this  argument  occurred  to  Marcello 
just  then,  so  he  said  nothing  ;  and  he  thought  of 
Aurora,  and  his  mother,  and  the  sad-eyed  Contessa, 
and  wondered  vaguely  whether  they  were  very  unlike 
other  women,  as  Ercole  implied. 

"  When  you  know  women,"  the  man  vouchsafed  to 
add  presently,  "you  will  wish  you  were  dead.  The 
Lord  sent  them  into  the  world  for  an  affliction  and  for 
the  punishment  of  our  sins." 

"  You  were  never  married,  were  you  ?  "  asked  Mar- 
cello,  still  smiling. 

Ercole  stopped   short  in  the  sand,  amongst  the  sea- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  51 

thistles  that  grew  there,  and  Nino  trotted  up  and  looked 
at  him,  to  be  ready  if  anything  happened.  Marcello 
knew  the  man's  queer  ways,  and  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"  Married  ?  "  he  snorted.  "  Married  ?  You  have 
said  it  !  " 

This  seemed  enigmatical,  but  Marcello  understood 
the  words  to  convey  an  affirmation. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked,  expecting  more. 

"  Well  ?  Well,  what  ?  "  growled  Ercole.  "  This  is 
a  bad  world.  A  man  falls  in  love  with  a  pretty  little 
caterpillar  ;  he  wakes  up  and  finds  himself  married  to  a 
butterfly.  Oh,  this  is  a  very  bad  world  !  " 

Marcello  was  struck  by  the  simile,  but  he  reflected  that 
Aurora  looked  much  more  like  a  butterfly  than  a  cater 
pillar,  a  fact  which,  if  it  meant  anything,  should  signify 
that  he  knew  the  worst  beforehand.  Ercole  declined  to 
enter  into  any  account  of  his  conjugal  experiences,  and 
merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  on  through  the 
sand. 

With  such  fitting  and  warning  as  this  to  keep  him 
out  of  trouble,  Marcello  was  to  face  life  :  with  his 
saintly  mother's  timid  allusions  to  its  wickedness,  with 
Corbario's  tempting  suggestions  of  harmless  dissipation, 
with  an  unlettered  peasant's  sour  reflections  on  the 
world  in  general  and  women  in  particular. 

In  the  other  scale  of  the  balance  fate  set  his  delicate 
and  high-strung  nature,  his  burning  desire  for  the  great 
unknown  something,  the  stinging  impatience  of  bodily 
weakness,  and  the  large  element  of  recklessness  he  in 
herited  from  his  father,  besides  a  fine  admixture  of  latent 


52  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

boyish  vanity  for  women  to  play  upon,  and  all  the  ordi 
nary  weaknesses  of  human  nature  in  about  the  same 
proportion  as  every  one  has  them. 

Given  a  large  fortune  and  ordinary  liberty,  it  might 
be  foreseen  that  the  boy  would  not  reach  tin1  haven  of 
maturity  without  meeting  a  storm,  even  if  the  outward 
circumstances  of  chance  were  all  in  his  favour,  even 
if  no  one  had  an  interest  in  ruining  him,  even  if 
Folco  Corbario  did  not  want  all  for  himself,  as  poor 
Ercole  told  his  dog  that  he  did  in  the  solitude  of  his 
hut. 

Marcello  had  a  bad  chance  at  the  start,  and  Madda- 
lena  del?  Armi,  who  knew  the  world  well  in  all  its 
moods,  and  had  suffered  by  it  and  sinned  for  it,  and  had 
shed  many  tears  in  secret  before  becoming  what  she 
was  now,  foresaw  danger,  and  hoped  that  her  daughter's 
fate  might  not  be  bound  up  with  that  of  her  friend's 
son,  much  as  she  herself  liked  the  gentle-hearted  boy. 
She  wondered  how  long  any  one  would  call  him  gentle 
after  he  got  his  first  taste  of  pleasure  and  pain. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  very  early  morning,  and  there  was  no  shooting, 
for  a  southwesterly  gale  had  been  blowing  all  night,  and 
the  birds  passed  far  inland.  All  along  the  beach,  for 
twenty-five  miles  in  an  unbroken  line,  the  surf  thundered 
in,  with  a  double  roar,  breaking  on  the  bar,  then  gath 
ering  strength  again,  rising  grey  and  curling  green  and 
crashing  down  upon  the  sand.  Then  the  water  opened 
out  in  vast  sheets  of  crawling  foam  that  ran  up  to  the 
very  foot  of  the  bank  where  the  scrub  began  to  grow, 
and  ran  regretfully  back  again,  tracing  myriads  of  tiny 
channels  where  the  sand  was  loose  ;  but  just  as  it  had 
almost  subsided,  another  wave  curled  and  uncurled 
itself,  and  trembled  a  moment,  and  flung  its  whole 
volume  forwards  through  a  cloud  of  unresisting  spray. 

It  had  rained  a  little,  too,  and  it  would  rain  again. 
The  sky  was  of  an  even  leaden  grey,  and  as  the  sun  rose 
unseen,  a  wicked  glare  came  into  it,  as  if  the  lead  were 
melting  ;  and  the  wind  howled  unceasingly,  the  soft, 
wet,  southwest  wind  of  the  great  spring  storms. 

Less  than  a  mile  from  the  shore  a  small  brigantine, 
stripped  to  a  lower  topsail,  storm-jib,  and  balance-reefed 
mainsail,  was  trying  to  claw  off  shore.  She  had  small 
chance,  unless  the  gale  shifted  or  moderated,  for  she 
evidently  could  not  carry  enough  sail  to  make  any 

63 


54  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

way  against  the  huge  sea,  and  to  heave  to  would  be  sure 
destruction  within  two  hours. 

The  scrub  and  brushwood  were  dripping  with  rain 
drops,  and  the  salt  spray  was  blown  up  the  bank  with 
the  loose  sand.  Everything  was  wet,  grey,  and  dreary, 
as  only  the  Roman  shore  can  be  at  such  times,  with 
that  unnatural  dreariness  of  the  south  which  comes 
down  on  nature  suddenly  like  a  bad  dream,  and  is  a 
thousand  times  more  oppressive  than  the  stern  desola 
tion  of  any  northern  sea-coast. 

Marcello  and  Aurora  watched  the  storm  from  a  break 
in  the  bank  which  made  a  little  lee.  The  girl  was 
wrapped  in  a  grey  military  cloak,  of  which  she  had 
drawn  the  hood  over  her  loose  hair.  Her  delicate 
nostrils  dilated  with  pleasure  to  breathe  the  salt  wind, 
and  her  eyelids  drooped  as  she  watched  the  poor  little 
vessel  in  the  distance. 

"You  like  it,  don't  you?"  asked  Marcello,  as  he 
looked  at  her. 

"  I  love  it  I  "  she  answered  enthusiastically.  "  And 
I  may  never  see  it  all  again,"  she  added  after  a  little 
pause. 

"Never?"  Marcello  started  a  little.  "Are  you 
going  away  ?  " 

"We  are  going  to  Rome  to-day.  But  that  is  not 
what  I  mean.  We  have  always  come  down  every  year 
for  ever  so  long.  How  long  is  it,  Marcello  ?  We  were 
quite  small  the  first  time." 

"It  must  be  five  years.  Four  or  five — ever  sinco 
my  mother  bought  the  land  here." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  55 

"We  were  mere  children,"  said  Aurora,  with  the 
dignity  of  a  grown  person.  "  That  is  all  over." 

"  I  wish  it  were  not  !  "  Marcello  sighed. 

"  How  silly  you  are  !  "  observed  Aurora,  throwing 
back  her  beautiful  head.  "  But  then,  I  am  sure  I  am 
much  more  grown  up  than  you  are,  though  you  are 
nineteen,  and  I  am  not  quite  eighteen." 

"  You  are  seventeen,"  said  Marcello  firmly. 

"  I  shall  be  eighteen  on  my  next  birthday ! "  retorted 
Aurora  with  warmth.  "  Then  we  shall  see  who  is  the 
more  grown  up.  I  shall  be  in  society,  and  you  —  why, 
you  will  not  even  be  out  of  the  University." 

She  said  this  with  the  contempt  which  Marcello's 
extreme  youth  deserved. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  the  University." 

"  Then  you  will  be  a  boy  all  your  life.  I  always 
tell  you  so.  Unless  you  do  what  other  people  dot  you 
will  nev*r  grow  up  at  all.  You  ought  to  be  among 
men  by  this  time,  instead  of  everlastingly  at  home, 
clinging  to  your  mothers  skirts  !  " 

A  bright  flush  rose  in  Marcello's  cheeks.  He  felt 
that  he  wanted  to  box  her  ears,  and  for  an  instant  ho 
wished  himself  small  again  that  he  might  do  it,  though 
he  remembered  what  a  terrible  fighter  Aurora  had  been 
when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  had  preserved  a  vivid 
recollection  of  her  well-aimed  slaps. 

"  Don't  talk  about  my  mother  in  that  way,"  he  said, 
angrily. 

"  I'm  not  talking  of  her  at  all.  She  is  a  saint,  and  f 
love  her  very  much.  But  that  is  no  reason  why  yon 


56  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

should  always  be  with  her,  as  if  you  were  a  girl !  I 
don't  suppose  you  mean  to  begin  life  as  a  saint  your 
self,  do  you  ?  You  are  rather  young  for  that,  you 
know."  " 

"No,"  Marcello  answered,  feeling  that  he  was  not 
saving  just  the  right  thing,  but  not  knowing  what  to 
say.  "  And  I  am  sure  my  mother  does  not  expect  it  of 
me,  either,"  he  added.  "But  that  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  be  so  disagreeable." 

He  felt  that  he  had  been  weak,  and  that  he  ought  to 
say  something  sharp.  He  knew  very  well  that  his 
mother  believed  it  quite  possible  for  a  boy  to  develop 
into  saintship  without  passing  through  the  intermediate 
state  of  sinning  manhood  ;  and  though  his  nature  told 
him  that  he  was  not  of  the  temper  that  attains  sanctity 
all  at  once,  he  felt  that  he  owed  to  his  mother's  hopes 
for  him  a  sort  of  loyalty  in  which  Aurora  had  made 
him  fail.  The  reasonings  of  innocent  sentiment  are 
more  tortuous  than  the  wiles  of  the  devil  himself,  and 
have  amazing  power  to  torment  the  unfledged  con 
science  of  a  boy  brought  up  like  Marcello. 

Aurora's  way  of  thinking  was  much  more  direct. 

"If  you  think  I  am  disagreeable,  you  can  go  away," 
she  said,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 

"Thank  you.  You  are  very  kind."  He  tried  to 
speak  sarcastically,  but  it  was  a  decided  failure. 

To  his  surprise,  Aurora  turned  and  looked  at  him 
very  quietly. 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  shall  like  you,  when  you  are  a 
man,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  profound  reflection.  "  I  am 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  57 

rather  ashamed  of  liking  you  now,  because  you  are 
such  a  baby." 

He  flushed  again,  very  angry  this  time,  and  he  moved 
away  to  leave  her,  without  another  word. 

She  turned  her  face  to  the  storm  and  took  no  notice 
of  him.  She  thought  that  he  would  come  back,  but 
there  was  just  the  least  doubt  about  it,  which  intro 
duced  an  element  of  chance  and  was  perfectly  delight 
ful  while  it  lasted.  Was  there  ever  a  woman,  since  the 
world  began,  who  did  not  know  that  sensation,  either 
by  experience  or  by  wishing  she  might  try  it  ?  What 
pleasure  would  there  be  in  angling  if  the  fish  did 
not  try  to  get  off  the  hook,  but  stupidly  swallowed 
it,  fly  and  all  ?  It  might  as  well  crawl  out  of  the 
stream  at  once  and  lay  itself  meekly  down  in  the 
basket. 

And  Marcello  came  back,  before  he  had  taken  four 
steps. 

"  Is  that  what  you  meant  when  you  said  that  you 
might  never  come  here  again  ?  "  he  asked,  and  there 
was  something  rough  in  his  tone  that  pleased  her. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
"  Mamma  talked  to  me  a  long  time  last  night. " 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  tell  you.  She 
says  that  we  must  not  come  here  after  I  go  into  society, 
because  people  will  think  that  she  is  trying  to  marry 
me  to  you." 


58  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

She  looked  at  him  boldly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  her  eyes  to  the  sea. 

44  Why  should  she  care  what  people  think  ? "  he 
asked. 

M  Uecause  it  would  prevent  me  from  marrying  any 
one  else,"  answered  Aurora,  with  the  awful  cynicism 
of  youth.  "  If  every  one  thought  I  was  engaged  to 
you,  or  going  to  be,  no  other  man  could  ask  for  me. 
It's  simple  enough,  I'm  sure  ! " 

44  And  you  wish  other  men  to  ask  you  to  marry  them, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

Marcello  was  a  little  pale,  but  he  tried  to  throw  all 
tin*  contempt  he  could  command  into  his  tone.  Aurora 
smiled  sweetly. 

*•  Naturally,"  she  said.     "I'm  only  a  woman." 

4»  \Vhieh  means  that  I'm  a  fool  to  care  for  you!  " 

••  You  are,  if  you  think  I'm  not  worth  caring  for." 
The  girl  laughed. 

This  was  so  very  hard  to  understand  that  Marcello 
knit  his  smooth  young  brow  and  looked  very  angry, 
but  could  find  nothing  to  say  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  All  women  are  born  with  the  power  to  put 
a  man  into  such  a  position  that  he  must  either  contra 
dict  himself,  hold  his  tongue,  or  fly  into  a  senseless 
rage.  They  do  this  so  easily,  that  even  after  the 
experience  of  a  life-time  we  never  suspect  the  trap 
until  they  pull  the  string  and  we  are  caught.  Then, 
if  we  contradict  ourselves,  woman  utters  an  inhuman 
cry  of  triumph  and  jeers  at  our  unstable  purpose  ;  if 
we  lo.se  our  tempers  instead,  she  bursts  into  tears  and 


HE   FLUSHED  AGAIN,    VERY   ANGRY   THIS   TIME,  AND   HE   MOVED   AWAY 
TO   LEAVE  HER,   WITHOUT  ANOTHER  WORD." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  59 

calls  us  brutes ;  and  finally,  if  we  say  nothing,  she 
declares,  with  a  show  of  reason,  that  we  have  nothing 
to  say. 

Marcello  lost  his  temper. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said  angrily.  "  You  are 
not  worth  caring  for.  You  are  a  mere  child,  and  you 
are  a  miserable  little  flirt  already,  and  you  will  be  a 
detestable  woman  when  you  grow  up !  You  will  lead 
men  on,  and  play  with  them,  and  then  laugh  at  them. 
But  you  shall  not  laugh  at  me  again.  You  shall  not 
have  that  satisfaction!  You  shall  wish  me  back,  but  I 
will  not  come,  not  if  you  break  your  silly  little  heart !  " 

With  this  terrific  threat  the  boy  strode  away,  leaving 
her  to  watch  the  storm  alone  in  the  lee  of  the  sand 
bank.  Aurora  knew  that  he  really  meant  to  go  this 
time,  and  at  first  she  was  rather  glad  of  it,  since  he 
was  in  such  a  very  bad  temper.  She  felt  that  he  had 
insulted  her,  and  if  he  had  stayed  any  longer  she  would 
doubtless  have  called  him  a  brute,  that  being  the 
woman's  retort  under  the  circumstances.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  of  being  quite  reconciled  with  him 
before  luncheon,  of  course,  but  in  her  heart  she  wished 
that  she  had  not  made  him  angry.  It  had  been  very 
pleasant  to  watch  the  storm  together,  and  when  they 
had  come  to  the  place,  she  had  felt  a  strong  presenti 
ment  that  he  would  kiss  her,  and  that  the  contrast 
between  the  kiss  and  the  howling  gale  would  be  very 
delightful. 

The  presentiment  had  certainly  not  come  true,  and 
now  that  Marcello  was  gone  it  was  not  very  amusing 


60  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

to  feel  the  spray  and  the  sand  on  her  face,  or  to  watch 
the  tumbling  breakers  and  listen  to  the  wind.  Besides 
she  had  been  there  some  time,  and  she  had  not  even 
had  her  little  breakfast  of  coffee  and  rolls  before  com 
ing  down  to  the  shore.  She  suddenly  felt  hungry  and 
cold  and  absurdly  inclined  to  cry,  and  she  became  aware 
that  the  sand  had  got  into  her  russet  shoes,  and  that  it 
would  be  very  uncomfortable  to  sit  down  in  such  a  place 
to  take  them  off  and  shake  it  out ;  and  that,  altogether, 
misfortunes  never  come  singly. 

After  standing  still  three  or  four  minutes  longer,  she 
turned  away  with  a  discontented  look  in  her  face,  all 
rosy  with  the  wind  and  spray.  She  started  as  she  saw 
Corbario  standing  before  her,  for  she  had  not  heard  his 
footsteps  in  the  gale.  He  wore  his  shooting-coat  and 
heavy  leathern  gaiters,  but  he  had  no  gun.  She  thought 
he  looked  pale,  and  that  there  was  a  shade  of  anxiety  in 
his  usually  expressionless  face. 

"  We  wondered  where  you  were,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
coffee  in  the  verandah,  and  your  mother  is  out  already." 

"  I  came  down  to  look  at  the  storm,"  Aurora  answered. 
"I  forgot  all  about  breakfast." 

Tli"\  made  a  few  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 
Aurora  felt  that  Corbario  was  looking  sideways  at  her 
as  thi'v  walked. 

44  Have  you  seen  Marcello  ?  "  he  asked  presently. 

44  Did  you  not  meet  him  ?  "  Aurora  was  surprised. 
44  It  is  not  five  minutes  since  he  left  me." 

"No.     I  did  not  meet  him." 

••  That  is  strange." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  61 

They  went  on  in  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  did  not  meet  Marcello," 
Aurora  said  suddenly,  as  if  she  had  thought  it  over. 
"  Did  you  come  this  way  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Perhaps  he  got  back  before  you  started.  He  walks 
very  fast." 

"  Perhaps,"  Corbario  said,  "  but  I  did  not  see  him. 
I  came  to  look  for  you  both." 

"  Expecting  to  find  us  together,  of  course  !  "  Aurora 
threw  up  her  head  a  little  disdainfully,  for  Marcello  had 
offended  her. 

"  He  is  generally  somewhere  near  you,  poor  boy," 
answered  Corbario  in  a  tone  of  pity. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  poor  boy  '  in  that  tone  ?  Do  you 
think  he  is  so  much  to  be  pitied  ?  " 

"A  little,  certainly."     Corbario  smiled. 

"I  don't  see  why." 

"  Women  never  do,  when  a  man  is  in  love !  " 

"  Women  "  —  the  flattery  was  subtle  and  Aurora's 
face  cleared.  Corbario  was  a  man  of  the  world,  with 
out  doubt,  and  he  had  called  her  a  woman,  in  a  most 
natural  way,  as  if  she  had  been  at  least  twenty  years 
old.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  to  ask  herself  whether 
Folco  had  any  object  in  wishing  to  please  her  just 
then,  but  she  knew  well  enough  that  he  did  wish  to  do 
so.  Even  a  girl's  instinct  is  unerring  in  that ;  and 
Corbario  further  pleased  her  by  not  pursuing  the  sub 
ject,  for  what  he  had  said  seemed  all  the  more  spon 
taneous  because  it  led  to  nothing. 


62  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  If  Marcello  is  not  in  the  cottage,"  he  observed,  as 
they  came  near,  "he  must  have  gone  off  for  a  walk 
after  lie  left  you.  Did  you  not  see  which  way  he 
turned?" 

"  How  could  I  from  the  place  where  I  stood  ?  "  asked 
Aurora  in  reply.  "  As  soon  as  he  had  turned  behind 
the  bank  it  was  impossible  to  say  which  way  he  had 
gone." 

"Of  course,"  assented  Folco.     "I  understand  that." 

Marcello  had  not  come  home,  and  Aurora  was  sorry 
that  she  had  teased  him  into  a  temper  and  had  then 
allowed  him  to  go  away.  It  was  not  good  for  him, 
delicate  as  he  was,  to  go  for  a  long  walk  in  such 
weather  without  any  breakfast,  and  she  felt  distinctly 
contrite  as  she  ate  her  roll  in  silence  and  drank  her 
coffee,  on  the  sheltered  side  of  the  cottage,  under  the 
verandah.  The  Signora  Corbario  had  not  appeared 
yet,  but  the  Contessa  was  already  out.  As  a  rule  the 
nora  preferred  to  have  her  coffee  in  her  room,  as  if 
si  it-  were  in  town.  For  some  time  no  one  spoke. 

••  II  id  we  not  better  send  Ercole  to  find  Marcello?" 
the  Contessa  asked  at  last. 

"  I  had  to  send  Ercole  to  Porto  d'Anzio  this  morn 
ing,"  Corbario  answered.  "I  took  the  opportunity, 
because  I  knew  there  would  be  no  quail  with  this 
wind." 

"Marcello  will  come  in  when  he  is  hungry,"  said 
Aurora,  rather  sharply,  because  she  really  felt  sorry. 

But  Marcello  did  not  come  in. 

Soon  after  eight  o'clock  his  mother  appeared  on  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  63 

verandah.  Folco  dropped  his  newspaper  and  hastened 
to  make  her  comfortable  in  her  favourite  chair. 
Though  she  was  not  strong,  she  was  not  an  invalid,  but 
she  was  one  of  those  women  whom  it  seems  natural  to 
help,  to  whom  men  bring  cushions,  and  with  whom  other 
women  are  always  ready  to  sympathise.  If  one  of  Fra 
Angelico's  saints  should  walk  into  a  modern  drawing- 
room  all  the  men  would  fall  over  each  other  in  the 
scramble  to  make  her  comfortable,  and  all  the  women 
would  offer  her  tea  and  ask  her  if  she  felt  the  draught. 

The  Signora  looked  about,  expecting  to  see  her 
son. 

"  Marcello  has  not  come  in,"  said  Folco,  understand 
ing.  "  He  seems  to  have  gone  for  a  long  walk." 

"  I  hope  he  has  put  on  his  thick  boots,"  answered  the 
Signora,  in  a  thoughtful  tone.  "It  is  very  wet." 

She  asked  why  Folco  was  not  with  him  shooting,  and 
was  told  that  there  were  no  birds  in  such  weather. 
She  had  never  understood  the  winds,  nor  the  points  of 
the  compass,  nor  why  one  should  see  the  new  moon  in 
the  west  instead  of  in  the  east.  Very  few  women  do, 
but  those  who  live  much  with  men  generally  end  by 
picking  up  a  few  useful  expressions,  a  little  phrase- 
book  of  jargon  terms  with  which  men  are  quite  satis 
fied.  They  find  out  that  a  fox  has  no  tail,  a  wild 
boar  no  teeth,  a  boat  no  prow,  and  a  yacht  no  staircase; 
and  this  knowledge  is  better  than  none. 

The  Signora  accepted  the  fact  that  there  were  no 
birds  that  morning,  and  began  to  talk  to  Maddalena. 
Aurora  got  a  book  and  pretended  to  read,  but  she  was 


64  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

really  listening  for  Marcello's  footsteps,  and  wondering 
whether  he  would  smile  at  her,  or  would  still  be  cross 
when  he  came  in.  Corbario  finished  his  paper  and 
went  off  to  look  at  the  weather  from  the  other  side 
the  1 10 use,  and  the  two  women  talked  in  broken 
sentences  as  old  friends  do,  with  long  intervals  of 
silence. 

The  wind  had  moderated  a  good  deal,  but  as  the  sun 
rose  higher  the  glare  in  the  sky  grew  more  yellow,  the 
air  was  in  IK  -h  warmer,  and  the  trees  and  shrubs  and 
long  grass  began  to  steam  as  if  they  had  been  half 
bnilrd.  All  manner  of  tiny  flies  and  gnats  chased  each 
other  in  the  lurid  light. 

"  It  iVrls  as  if  there  were  going  to  be  an  earthquake," 
said  Maddalena,  throwing  back  the  lace  from  her  grey 
hair  as  if  even  its  light  weight  oppressed  her. 

-  Yes." 

The  wnmen  sat  in  silence,  uneasy,  their  lips  a  little 
parted.  Not  that  an  earthquake  would  have  disturbed 
them  much,  for  slight  ones  are  common  enough  in 
Italy,  and  could  do  no  harm  at  all  to  a  wooden  cottage; 
it  was  a  mere  physical  breathlessness  that  they  felt,  as 
th"  gale  suddenly  dropped  and  the  heavy  air  became 
quite  still  on  the  sheltered  side  of  the  cottage. 

Aurora  threw  aside  her  book  impatiently  and  rose 
from  her  chair. 

"  I  am  going  to  look  for  Marcello,"  she  said,  and  she 
went  off  without  turning  her  head. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  cottage,  as  she  went  round, 
she  found  Folco  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  verandah, 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  65 

his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  chin  resting  on  his 
folded  hands,  apparently  in  deep  thought.  He  had  a 
cigar  between  his  teeth,  but  it  had  gone  out. 

"I  am  going  to  look  for  Marcello,"  said  Aurora,  as 
she  passed  close  beside  him. 

He  said  nothing,  and  hardly  moved  his  head. 
Aurora  turned  and  looked  at  him  as  she  stepped  upon 
the  path. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  as  she  saw  his 
face.  "  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

Corbario  looked  up  quickly,  as  if  he  had  been  in  a 
reverie. 

"Anything  the  matter?  No.  Where  did  you  say 
you  were  going  ?  " 

"To  find  Marcello.     He  has  not  come  in  yet." 

"He  has  gone  for  a  walk,  I  suppose.  He  often 
walks  alone  on  off  days.  He  will  be  back  before 
luncheon,  and  you  are  not  going  to  town  till  the 
afternoon." 

"  Will  you  come  with  me  ?  "  Aurora  asked,  for  she 
was  in  a  good  humour  with  Folco. 

He  rose  at  once. 

"I'll  go  with  you  for  a  stroll,"  he  said,  "but  I  don't 
think  it  is  of  any  use  to  look  for  Marcello  near  the 
house." 

"  It  can  do  no  harm." 

"And  it  will  do  us  good  to  walk  a  bit." 

They  went  down  the  path  and  through  the  trees 
towards  the  break  in  the  bank. 

"  The  sand  was  very  wet  this  morning,  even  inside 

F 


66  WH«»S«M-:VI-:I:  SHALL  OFFEND 

the  bank,"  Aurora  said.  "  I  daresay  we  shall  find  his 
footsteps  and  be  able  to  guess  which  way  he  went." 

••  Very  likely,"  Folco  answered. 

11.  pushed  back  his  tweed  cap  a  little  and  passed  his 
handkerchief  across  his  smooth  brow.  Aurora  noticed 
the  action,  because  he  did  not  usually  get  warm  so  easily. 

••  Are  you  hot?  "  she  asked  carelessly. 

44  A  little,"  he  answered.  "  The  air  is  so  heavy  this 
morning." 

-•  IVrhaps  you  are  not  quite  well,"  said  Aurora. 
«  You  are  a  little  pale." 

Apparently  something  in  her  youthfully  patronising 
tone  came  as  near  irritating  him  as  anything  ever 
could. 

"What  does  it  matter,  whether  I  am  hot  or  not?" 
he  asked,  almost  impatiently,  and  again  he  passed  his 
handkerchief  over  his  forehead. 

44 1  did  not  mean  to  annoy  you,"  Aurora  answered 
with  uncommon  meekness. 

They  came  near  the  break  in  the  bank,  and  she 
looked  at  the  sand  on  each  side  of  her.  She  thought 
it  seemed  smoother  than  usual,  and  that  there  were  not 
so  many  little  depressions  in  it,  where  there  had  been 
footsteps  on  previous  days,  half  obliterated  by  wind 
and  rain. 

44 1  cannot  see  where  you  and  I  passed  an  hour  ago," 
she  said,  in  some  surprise. 

••  The  wind  draws  through  the  gap  with  tremendous 
strength,"  Folco  explained.  "Just  before  the  gale 
moderated  there  was  a  heavy  squall  with  rain." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  67 

44  Was  there  ?  I  did  not  notice  that  —  but  I  was  on 
the  lee  side  of  the  house.  The  wind  must  have 
smoothed  the  sand,  just  like  a  flat-iron !  " 

"  Yes."  Corbario  answered  indifferently  and  gazed 
out  to  sea. 

Aurora  left  his  side  and  looked  about,  going  to  a 
little  distance  from  the  gap,  first  on  one  side  and  then 
on  the  other. 

44  It  is  as  if  the  wind  had  done  it  on  purpose !  "  she 
cried  impatiently.  u  It  is  as  smooth  as  if  it  had  all 
been  swept  with  a  gardener's  broom." 

Corbario  turned,  lighted  his  extinguished  cigar,  and 
watched  her,  as  she  moved  about,  stooping  now  and 
then  to  examine  the  sand. 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  of  any  use  to  look  here," 
he  said.  u  Besides,  he  will  be  back  in  time  for 
luncheon." 

44 1  suppose  so,"  answered  Aurora.  44  Why  do  you 
look  at  me  in  that  way?"  she  asked,  standing  upright 
and  meeting  his  eyes  suddenly. 

He  laughed  softly  and  took  his  cigar  from  his 
mouth. 

44 1  was  watching  you.  You  are  very  graceful  when 
you  move." 

She  did  not  like  his  expression. 

44 1  wish  you  would  think  less  about  me  and  more 
about  finding  Marcello,"  she  said  rather  sharply. 

44  You  talk  as  if  he  were  lost.  I  tell  you  he  will 
surely  come  back  before  long." 

44 1  hope  so." 


68  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

But  Marcello  did  not  come  back,  and  after  Aurora 
had  returned  to  the  cottage  and  was  seated  in  her 
chair  again,  with  her  book,  she  grew  restless,  and  went 
over  in  her  memory  what  had  passed  in  the  morning. 
It  was  not  possible  that  Marcello  should  really  mean  to 
carry  out  his  threat,  to  go  away  without  a  word,  to 
leave  her,  to  leave  his  mother ;  and  yet,  he  was  gone. 
A  settled  conviction  came  over  her  that  he  was  really 
gone,  just  as  he  was,  most  probably  back  to  Rome.  She 
had  teased  him,  and  he  had  been  very  angry,  absurdly 
angry ;  and  yet  she  was  perhaps  responsible,  in  a  way, 
for  his  disappearance.  Presently  his  mother  would 
grow  anxious  and  would  ask  questions,  and  then  it 
would  all  come  out.  It  would  be  better  to  be  brave 
and  to  say  at  once  that  he  had  been  angry  with  her ; 
she  could  confess  the  truth  to  her  mother,  to  the  Sig- 
nora,  if  necessary,  or  even  to  both  together,  for  they 
were  women  and  would  understand.  But  she  could 
not  tell  the  story  before  Corbario.  That  would  be  out 
of  the  question  ;  and  yet,  anything  would  be  better 
than  to  let  them  all  think  that  something  dreadful  had 
happened  to  Marcello.  He  had  gone  to  Rome,  of 
course;  or  perhaps  only  to  Porto  d'Anzio,  in  which 
case  he  would  meet  Ercole  coming  back. 

The  hours  wore  on  to  midday,  and  Signora  Corbario's 
uneasiness  grew  into  real  anxiety.  The  Contessa  did 
her  best  to  soothe  her,  but  was  anxious  herself,  and  still 
Aurora  said  nothing.  Folco  was  grave,  but  assured 
every  one  that  the  boy  would  soon  return,  though  the 
Signora  would  not  believe  it. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  69 

"  He  will  never  come  back !  Something  dreadful 
has  happened  to  him !  "  And  therewith  she  broke 
down  completely  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  must  go  and  look  for  him,"  said  Maddalena 
quietly  to  Corbario. 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  going 
to  find  him,"  he  said  softly,  bending  down  to  his  wife 
as  she  lay  in  her  chair,  trying  to  control  her  sobs.  "  I 
will  send  some  of  the  men  towards  Porto  d'Anzio  and 
will  go  towards  Nettuno  myself." 

She  loved  him  and  believed  in  him,  and  she  was  com 
forted  when  she  saw  him  go  away  and  heard  him  call 
ing  the  men  from  their  hut. 

Aurora  was  left  alone  with  the  two  women. 

"  I  am  afraid  Marcello  is  gone  to  Rome,"  she  said, 
with  an  effort. 

The  Signora  raised  herself  in  her  long  chair  and 
stared  hard  at  the  girl.  The  Contessa  looked  at  her 
in  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  cried  the  Signora. 
"Why  have  you  not  spoken,  if  you  know  anything? 
Don't  you  see  that  I  am  half  mad  with  anxiety?" 

Aurora  had  never  seen  the  good  lady  in  such  a  state, 
and  was  almost  frightened  ;  but  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done  now,  except  to  go  on.  She  told  her  little 
story  timidly,  but  truthfully,  looking  from  her  mother 
to  the  Signora  while  she  spoke,  and  wondering  what 
would  happen  when  she  had  finished. 

"  He  said,  4  You  shall  wish  me  back,  but  I  will  not 
come.'  I  think  those  were  his  last  words." 


70  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44  You  have  broken  my  boy's  heart !  "  cried  the  Sig- 
nora  Corbario,  turning  her  face  away. 

Maddalena,  whose  heart  had  really  been  broken  long 
ago,  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean  to,"  cried  Aurora,  con 
tritely.  44And  after  all,  though  I  daresay  it  was  my 
fault,  he  called  me  a  miserable  little  flirt,  and  I  only 
called  him  a  baby." 

Maddalena  would  have  laughed  if  her  friend  had  not 
been  in  such  real  distress.  As  for  Aurora,  she  did  not 
know  whether  she  would  have  laughed  or  cried  if  she 
had  not  felt  that  her  girl's  dignity  was  at  stake.  As  it 
was,  she  grew  preternaturally  calm. 

44  You  have  driven  him  away,"  moaned  the  Signora, 
piteously.  44  You  have  driven  away  my  boy  !  Was  he 
not  good  enough  for  you  ?  " 

She  asked  the  question  suddenly  and  vehemently, 
turning  upon  poor  Aurora  with  something  like  fury. 
She  was  quite  beside  herself,  and  the  Contessa  motioned 
the  girl  away.  Aurora  rose  and  disappeared  round  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

Alone  with  her  friend,  Maddalena  did  her  best  to 
comfort  her.  There  were  arguments  enough  :  it  was 
barely  noon,  and  Marcello  had  not  been  gone  four  hours; 
he  was  used  to  taking  long  walks,  he  had  probably  gone 
as  far  as  the  tower,  and  had  rested  there  before  coming 
back  ;  or  he  had  gone  to  meet  Ercole  on  the  road  to 
Porto  d'Anzio  ;  or  he  had  gone  off  towards  the  Nettuno 
woods  to  get  over  his  anger  in  solitude  ;  it  was  natural 
Dgfa  ;  and  after  all,  if  he  had  gone  to  Koine  as  An 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  71 

rora  thought,  no  harm  could  come  to  him,  for  he  would 
go  home,  and  would  surely  send  a  telegram  before  even 
ing.  It  was  unlike  him,  yes  ;  but  just  at  his  age  boys 
often  did  foolish  things. 

"  Marcello  is  not  foolish  !  "  objected  the  Signora  in 
dignantly. 

She  could  by  no  means  listen  to  reason,  and  was 
angry  because  her  friend  tried  to  argue  with  her.  She 
rose  with  an  energy  she  seldom  displayed,  and  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  verandah.  Her  face  was 
very  pale,  her  lip  quivered  when  she  spoke,  and 
there  was  an  unnatural  light  in  her  eyes.  There 
was  room  for  much  moderate  affection  in  her  gentle 
nature  ;  she  had  loved  her  first  husband  ;  she  loved 
Corbario  dearly ;  but  the  passion  of  her  life  was 
her  son,  and  at  the  first  presentiment  of  real  danger 
to  him  the  dominant  preoccupation  of  her  heart  took 
violent  possession  of  everything  else  in  her,  regardless 
of  reason,  friendship,  consideration  for  others,  or  com 
mon  sense. 

Maddalena  walked  up  and  down  beside  her,  putting 
one  arm  affectionately  round  her  waist,  and  doing  the 
best  she  could  to  allay  the  tempest. 

It  subsided  suddenly,  and  was  followed  by  a  stony 
silence  that  frightened  the  Contessa.  It  was  time  for 
luncheon,  and  Aurora  came  back,  hoping  to  find  that 
she  had  been  forgiven  during  her  absence,  but  the 
Signora  only  looked  at  her  coldly  once  or  twice  and 
would  not  speak.  None  of  the  three  even  pretended  to 
have  an  appetite. 


72  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  I  shall  not  go  back  to  Rome  to-day,"  said  the  Con- 
tessa.  "I  cannot  leave  you  in  such  anxiety." 

"  Folco  will  take  care  of  me,"  answered  the  Signora 
in  a  dull  tone.  "Do  not  change  your  plans  on  my 
account.  The  carriage  is  ordered  at  three  o'clock." 

She  spoke  so  coldly  that  Maddalena  felt  a  little  par 
donable  resentment,  though  she  knew  that  her  friend 
was  not  at  all  herself. 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered  quietly.  "  If  you  had 
rather  that  I  should  not  stay  with  you  we  will  go  back 
tliis  afternoon." 

"  It  will  be  much  better." 

When  the  carriage  appeared  neither  Folco  nor  any  of 
the  men  had  returned.  The  Signora  made  an  evident 
attempt  to  show  a  little  of  her  habitual  cordiality  at 
parting,  and  she  even  kissed  Aurora  coldly  on  the  fore 
head,  and  embraced  Maddalena  with  something  like  her 
usual  affection.  The  two  looked  back  as  they  drove 
away,  calling  out  a  last  good-bye,  but  they  saw  that  the 
Signora  was  not  even  looking  after  them  ;  she  was  lean 
ing  against  one  of  the  wooden  supports  of  the  verandah, 
gazing  towards  the  trees,  and  pressing  one  hand  to  her 
forehead. 

"Do  you  think  it  was  my  fault,  mamma?"  asked 
Aurora,  when  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  cottage. 

"No,  dear,"  answered  Maddalena.  "Something  has 
happened,  I  wish  I  knew  what !  " 

"  I  only  told  him  he  was  a  baby,"  said  Aurora,  set 
tling  herself  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage,  and  arrang 
ing  her  parasol  behind  her  so  that  it  rested  on  the  open 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  73 

hood ;  for  the  weather  had  cleared  and  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly  after  the  storm. 

So  she  and  her  mother  went  back  to  Rome  that  after 
noon.  But  when  the  Signora  was  alone,  she  was  sorry 
that  her  friend  was  gone,  and  was  all  at  once  aware 
that  her  head  was  aching  terribly.  Every  movement 
she  made  sent  an  agonizing  thrill  through  her  brain, 
and  her  hand  trembled  from  the  pain,  as  she  pressed 
her  palm  to  her  forehead. 

She  meant  to  go  down  to  the  beach  alone,  for  she  was 
sure  that  she  could  find  Marcello,  and  at  least  she 
would  meet  the  men  who  were  searching  for  him,  and 
have  news  sooner  than  if  she  stayed  in  the  cottage. 
But  she  could  not  have  walked  fifty  steps  without  faint 
ing  while  her  headache  lasted.  She  would  take  five 
grains  of  phenacetine,  and  in  a  little  while  she  would 
be  better. 

She  found  the  glass  tube  with  the  screw  cap,  and 
swallowed  one  of  the  tablets  with  a  little  water.  Then 
she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  her  long  chair  in  the  veran 
dah  to  wait  for  the  pain  to  pass.  She  was  very  tired, 
and  presently,  she  scarcely  knew  how  it  was,  she  was 
lying  at  full  length  in  her  chair,  her  head  resting  com 
fortably  against  the  cushion. 

The  sunlight  fell  slanting  across  her  feet.  Amongst 
the  trees  two  or  three  birds  were  twittering  softly  ;  it 
was  warm,  it  was  dreamy,  she  was  forgetting  Marcello. 
She  tried  to  rouse  herself  as  the  thought  of  him  crossed 
her  mind,  and  she  fancied  that  she  almost  rose  from  the 
chair  ;  but  she  had  hardly  lifted  one  hand.  Then  she 


7  !  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

saw  his  face  close  before  her,  her  lips  relaxed,  the  pain 
was  gone,  she  smiled  happily,  and  she  was  asleep. 

Half  an  hour  later  her  maid  came  quietly  out  to  ask 
whether  she  needed  anything,  and  seeing  that  she  was 
sleeping  peacefully  spread  a  light  shawl  over  her  feet, 
placed  the  silver  handbell  within  easy  reach  on  tin- 
table,  and  went  away  again. 

Towards  evening  Folco  came  back  and  then  the  men, 
straggling  in  on  their  tired  little  horses,  for  they  had 
ridden  far  and  fast.  Marcello  was  not  with  them. 

Corbario  came  in  alone,  and  saw  his  wife  lying  in  her 
chair  in  the  evening  light.  He  stood  still  a  moment, 
and  then  came  over  and  bent  near  her,  looking  earnestly 
into  her  quiet  face. 

"  Already,"  he  said  aloud,  but  in  a  very  low  voice. 

His  hand  shook  as  he  laid  it  on  her  heart,  bending 
low.  Then  he  started  violently  and  stood  bolt  upright, 
as  an  unearthly  howl  rent  the  air. 

Nino,  Ercole's  queer  dog,  was  close  beside  him,  his 
forepaws  planted  on  the  upper  step  of  the  verandah, 
li;>  head  thrown  up,  his  half-open  jaws  showing  his 
jagged  teeth,  his  rough  coat  bristling  like  spikes  of 
bearded  barley. 

And  Ercole,  still  a  hundred  yards  away  amongst  the 
trees,  shook  his  head  and  hurried  forward  as  he  heard 
the  Inn^-drawn  note  of  brute  terror. 

44  Somebody  is  dead,"  he  said  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  V 

FOR  a  few  weeks  all  Italy  was  profoundly  interested 
in  the  story  of  Marcello  Corbario's  disappearance  and 
of  his  mother's  almost  unaccountable  death.  It  was 
spoken  of  as  the  "  double  tragedy  of  the  Campagna," 
and  the  newspapers  were  full  of  it. 

The  gates  of  the  beautiful  villa  on  the  Janiculum 
were  constantly  assailed  by  reporters  ;  the  servants  who 
came  out  from  time  to  time  were  bribed,  flattered,  and 
tempted  away  to  eat  sumptuous  meals  and  drink  the 
oldest  wine  in  quiet  gardens  behind  old  inns  in  Traste- 
vere,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  have  some  informa 
tion  to  sell.  But  no  one  gained  admittance  to  the  villa 
except  the  agents  of  the  police,  who  came  daily  to  re 
port  the  fruitless  search ;  and  the  servants  had  nothing 
to  tell  beyond  the  bare  truth.  The  young  gentleman 
had  gone  for  a  walk  near  the  sea,  down  at  the  cottage 
by  the  Roman  shore,  and  he  had  never  been  heard  of 
again.  His  mother  had  been  suffering  from  a  bad 
headache,  had  lain  down  to  rest  in  a  cane  chair  on  the 
verandah,  and  had  been  found  dead,  with  a  smile  on 
her  face,  by  her  husband,  when  he  came  back  from  his 
first  attempt  to  find  Marcello.  The  groom  who  always 
went  down  with  the  carriage  could  describe  with 
greatest  accuracy  the  spot  where  the  Signorina  Aurora 

75 


76  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

had  last  seen  him  ;  the  house  servants  gave  the  most 
minute  details  about  the  cane  chair,  the  verandah,  and 
the  position  in  which  the  poor  lady  had  been  found  ; 
but  that  was  all,  and  it  was  not  at  all  what  the  report 
ers  wanted.  They  had  all  been  down  to  the  cottage, 
each  with  his  camera  and  note-book,  and  had  photo 
graphed  everything  in  sight,  including  Nino,  Ercole's 
dog.  What  they  wanted  was  a  clue,  a  story,  a  scandal 
if  possible,  and  they  found  nothing  of  the  sort. 

Folco  Corbario's  mourning  was  unostentatious  and 
quiet,  but  none  of  the  few  persons  who  saw  him, 
whether  detectives  or  servants,  could  doubt  that  he  was 
profoundly  affected.  He  grew  paler  and  thinner  every 
day,  until  his  own  man  even  began  to  fear  that  his 
health  was  failing.  He  had  done,  and  continued  to  do, 
everything  that  was  humanly  possible.  He  had  brought 
his  wife's  body  to  Rome,  and  had  summoned  the  very 
highest  authorities  in  the  medical  profession  to  discover, 
if  possible,  the  cause  of  her  death.  They  had  come,  old 
men  of  science,  full  of  the  experience  of  years,  young 
men  of  the  future,  brimming  with  theories,  experts  in 
chemistry,  experts  in  snake  poisons  ;  for  Folco  had 
even  suggested  that  she  might  have  been  bitten  by  a 
viper  or  stung  by  a  venomous  spider,  or  accidentally 
poisoned  by  some  medicine  or  something  she  had  eaten. 

But  the  scientific  gentlemen  were  soon  agreed  that 
no  such  thing  had  happened.  Considerably  disap 
pointed,  and  with  an  unanimity  which  is  so  unusual  in 
the  confraternity  as  to  be  thought  absolutely  conclusive 
when  it  is  observed,  they  decided  that  the  Siguora 


WHOSOEVEK   SHALL   OFFEND  77 

Corbario  had  died  of  collapse  after  intense  excitement 
caused  by  the  disappearance  of  her  son.  Thereafter 
she  was  buried  out  at  San  Lorenzo,  with  the  secret,  if 
there  were  any  ;  masses  were  said,  the  verdict  of  the 
doctors  was  published,  with  the  signatures  of  the  most 
eminent  practitioners  and  specialists  in  Italy  ;  and  the 
interest  or  the  public  concentrated  itself  upon  the  prob 
lem  of  Marcello's  mysterious  removal,  or  abduction,  or 
subduction,  or  recession,  or  flight,  from  the  very  bosom 
of  his  family. 

This  problem  had  the  merit  of  defying  solution.  In 
a  comparatively  open  country,  within  a  space  of  time 
which  could  certainly  be  limited  to  five  minutes,  at  a 
place  whence  he  should  have  been  clearly  seen  by  Folco 
Corbario  as  soon  as  Aurora  dell'  Armi  could  no  longer 
see  him,  the  boy  had  been  spirited  away,  leaving  not 
even  the  trace  of  his  footsteps  in  the  sand.  It  was  one 
of  the  most  unaccountable  disappearances  on  record,  as 
Folco  insisted  in  his  conversations  with  the  Chief  of 
Police,  who  went  down  with  him  to  the  cottage  and 
examined  the  spot  most  carefully,  with  several  expert 
detectives.  Folco  showed  him  exactly  where  Aurora 
had  stood,  and  precisely  the  direction  he  himself  had 
followed  in  approaching  the  gap,  and  he  declared  it  to 
be  almost  a  physical  impossibility  that  Marcello  should 
have  become  suddenly  invisible  just  then. 

The  official  thought  so  too,  and  shook  his  head.  He 
looked  at  the  detectives,  and  they  shook  their  heads 
also.  And  then  they  all  looked  at  Corbario  and  ex 
pressed  the  opinion  that  there  was  some  mistake  about 


78  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

the  length  of  time  supposed  by  Aurora  to  have  elapsed 
between  the  moment  when  Marcello  left  her  and  the 
instant  of  Folco's  appearance  before  her.  She  had  not 
looked  at  her  watch  ;  in  fact,  she  had  not  carried  a 
watch.  The  whole  story  therefore  depended  upon  her 
more  or  less  accurate  judgment  of  time.  It  might  have 
been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  instead  of  five  minutes,  in 
which  case  Corbario  had  not  yet  left  the  cottage,  and 
Marcello  would  have  had  ample  leisure  to  disappear  in 
any  direction  he  pleased.  Ercole  had  been  away  at 
Porto  d'Anzio,  the  men  had  been  all  at  the  hut ;  if 
Folco  had  not  been  on  the  path  precisely  at  the  time 
guessed  by  Aurora,  everything  could  be  accounted  for. 

"Very  well,"  Corbario  answered.  "Let  us  suppose 
that  my  stepson  had  time  to  get  away.  In  that  case 
he  can  be  found,  alive  or  dead.  Italy  is  not  China, 
nor  Siberia,  and  I  can  place  unlimited  funds  at  your 
disposal.  Find  him  for  me;  that  is  all  I  ask." 

••  \Vf  shall  find  him,  never  fear!"  answered  the 
Chief  of  Police  with  a  confidence  he  did  not  feel. 

*  \Ve  shall  find  him  I  "  echoed  the  three  detectives 
in  chorus. 

Ercole  watched  the  proceedings  and  listened  to  what 
was  said,  for  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  attend  on 
such  an  occasion,  his  dog  at  his  heels,  his  gun  slung 
over  his  shoulder.  He  listened  and  looked  from  one 
to  the  other  with  his  deep  eyes  and  inscrutable  parch 
ment  face,  shrivelled  by  the  malarious  fever.  But  he 
said  nothing.  The  Chief  of  Police  turned  to  him  at 
last. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  79 

"Now  what  do  you  think  about  it?"  asked  the 
official.  "You  know  the  country.  Had  there  been 
any  suspicious  characters  about,  fellows  who  could 
have  carried  off  the  boy  ?  " 

"  Such  people  would  ask  a  ransom,"  answered  Ercole. 
"  You  would  soon  hear  from  them.  But  I  saw  no  one. 
There  have  been  no  brigands  about  Rome  for  more 
than  twenty  years.  Do  you  dream  that  you  are  in 
Sicily?  Praise  be  to  Heaven,  this  is  the  Roman 
Campagna ;  we  are  Christians  and  we  live  under  King 
Victor  !  Where  are  the  brigands?  They  have  melted. 
Or  else  they  are  making  straw  hats  in  the  galleys. 
Do  I  know  where  they  are?  They  are  not  here. 
That  is  enough." 

"  Quite  right,  my  friend,"  answered  the  Chief  of 
Police.  "  There  are  no  brigands.  But  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  there  are  thieves  in  the  Campagna,  as 
there  are  near  every  great  city." 

Ercole  shrugged  his  angular  shoulders  contemptu 
ously. 

"Thieves  would  not  carry  a  man  away,"  he  an 
swered.  "  You  know  that,  you  who  are  of  the  pro 
fession,  as  they  say.  Such  ruffians  would  have 
knocked  the  young  gentleman  on  the  head  to  keep 
him  quiet,  and  would  have  made  off.  And  besides, 
we  should  have  found  their  tracks  in  the  sand,  and 
Nino  would  have  smelt  them." 

Nino  pricked  up  one  ragged  ear  at  the  sound  of  his 
name. 

"  He  does  not  look  very  intelligent,"  observed  the 


80  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

ial.  "A  clever  dog  might  have  been  used  to 
track  the  boy." 

"How?"  inquired  Ercole  with  scorn.  "The  foot- 
s  of  the  young  gentleman  were  everywhere,  with 
1 1 i.ise  of  all  the  family,  who  were  always  coming  and 
going  about  here.  How  could  he  track  them,  or  any 
of  us?  But  he  would  have  smelt  a  stranger,  even  if 
it  had  rained.  I  know  this  dog.  He  is  the  head  dog 
on  the  Roman  shore.  There  is  no  other  dog  like  him." 

44 1  daresay  not,"  assented  the  Chief  of  Police,  look 
ing  at  Nino.  "  In  fact,  he  is  not  like  any  animal  I 


ever  saw." 


The  detectives  laughed  at  this. 

44  There  is  no  other,"  said  Ercole  without  a  smile. 
44  He  is  the  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother.  I  am 
his  family,  and  he  is  my  family,  and  we  live  in  good 
understanding  in  this  desert.  If  there  were  no  fever 
we  should  be  like  the  saints  in  paradise  —  eating  our 
corn  meal  together.  And  I  will  tell  you  another 
tiling.  If  the  young  gentleman  had  been  wounded 
anywhere  near  here,  Nino  would  have  found  the  blood 
even  after  three  days.  As  for  a  dead  man,  he  would 
make  a  point  for  him  and  howl  half  a  mile  off,  unless 
tin-  wind  was  the  wrong  way." 

"Would  he  really?"  asked  Corbario  with  a  little 
interest. 

Ercole  looked  at  him  and  nodded,  but  said  no  more, 
and  presently  the  whole  party  of  men  went  back  to 
Rome,  leaving  him  to  the  loneliness  of  the  sand-banks 
and  the  sea. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  81 

Then  Ercole  came  back  to  the  gap  and  stood  still  a 
little  while,  and  his  dog  sat  bolt  upright  beside  him. 

"Nino,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  rather  regretful  tone, 
"I  gave  you  a  good  character.  What  could  I  say 
before  those  gentlemen  ?  But  I  tell  you  this,  you  are 
growing  old.  And  don't  answer  that  I  am  getting 
old  too,  for  that  is  my  business.  If  your  nose  were 
what  it  was  once,  we  should  know  the  truth  by  this 
time.  Smell  that !  " 

Ercole  produced  a  small  green  morocco  pocket-book, 
of  the  sort  made  to  hold  a  few  visiting  cards  and  a 
little  paper  money,  and  held  it  to  Nino's  muzzle. 

Nino  smelt  it,  looked  up  to  his  master's  face  in 
quiringly,  smelt  it  again,  and  then,  as  if  to  explain 
that  it  did  not  interest  him,  lay  down  in  the  sand 
with  his  head  on  his  forepaws. 

"  You  see !  "  growled  Ercole.  "  You  cannot  even 
tell  whether  it  belonged  to  the  boy  or  to  Corbario. 
An  apoplexy  on  you !  You  understand  nothing !  Ill 
befall  the  souls  of  your  dead,  you  ignorant  beast !  " 

Nino  growled,  but  did  not  lift  his  head. 

"  You  understand  that,"  said  Ercole,  discontentedly. 
"  If  you  were  a  Christian  you  would  stick  a  knife  into 
me  for  insulting  your  dead  !  Yet  you  cannot  tell 
whose  pocket-book  this  is !  And  if  I  knew,  I  should 
know  something  worth  knowing." 

The  pocket-book  disappeared  in  the  interior  re 
cesses  of  Ercole's  waistcoat.  It  was  empty  and  bore 
no  initial,  and  he  could  not  remember  to  have  seen 
it  in  Corbario's  or  Marcello's  hands,  but  he  was  quite 


82  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

sure  that  it  belonged  to  one  of  them.  He  was  equally 
sure  that  if  he  showed  it  to  Corbario  the  latter  would 
at  once  say  that  it  was  Marcello's,  and  would  take  it 
away  from  him,  so  he  said  nothing  about  it.  He  had 
found  it  in  the  sand,  a  little  way  up  the  bank,  during 
Ins  first  search  after  Marcello's  disappearance. 

Ercole's  confidence  in  the  good  intentions  of  his 
fellow-men  was  not  great  ;  he  was  quite  lacking  in 
the  sort  of  charity  which  believeth  all  things,  and  had 
a  large  capacity  for  suspicion  of  everybody  and  every 
thing  ;  he  held  all  men  to  be  liafs  and  most  women  to 
be  something  worse. 

u  Men  are  at  least  Christians,"  he  would  say  to  Nino, 
"  but  a  female  is  always  a  female." 

If  lie  took  a  liking  for  any  one,  as  for  Marcello,  he 
excused  himself  for  the  weakness  on  the  ground  that  he 
was  only  human  after  all,  and  in  his  heart  he  respected 
his  dog  for  snarling  at  everybody  without  discrimi 
nation.  There  was  no  doubt,  however,  that  he  felt  a 
sort  of  attachment  for  the  boy,  and  he  admitted  the 
failing  while  he  deplored  it.  Besides,  he  detested 
Corbario,  and  had  felt  that  his  own  common  sense  was 
insulted  by  the  fact  that  Folco  seemed  devoted  to 
Marcello.  The  suspicion  that  Folco  had  got  rid  of  his 
stepson  in  order  to  get  his  fortune  was  therefore  posi 
tively  delightful,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  the  con 
viction  that  he  should  one  day  prove  his  enemy  a 
murderer.  Perhaps  if  lie  could  have  known  what 
Folco  Corbario  was  suffering,  he  might  have  been 
almost  satisfied,  but  he  had  no  means  of  guessing  that. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  83 

In  his  opinion  the  man  knew  what  had  become  of 
Marcello,  and  could  be  made  to  tell  if  proper  means 
were  used.  At  night  Ercole  put  himself  to  sleep  by 
devising  the  most  horrible  tortures  for  his  master,  such 
as  no  fortitude  could  resist,  and  by  trying  to  guess 
what  the  wretched  man  would  say  when  his  agony 
forced  him  to  confess  the  truth. 

He  was  almost  sure  by  this  time  that  Marcello  was 
dead,  though  how  Folco  could  have  killed  him,  carried 
off  his  body  to  a  great  distance  and  buried  him,  with 
out  ever  absenting  himself  from  the  cottage,  was  more 
than  Ercole  could  imagine.  He  paid  Corbario's  skill 
the  compliment  of  believing  that  he  had  not  employed 
any  accomplice,  but  had  done  the  deed  alone. 

How?  That  was  the  question.  Ercole  knew  his 
dog  well  enough,  and  was  perfectly  sure  that  if  the 
body  had  been  concealed  anywhere  within  a  mile  of  the 
cottage  Nino  would  have  found  it  out,  for  the  dog  and 
his  master  had  quartered  every  foot  of  the  ground 
within  three  days  after  Marcello  had  been  lost.  It 
was  utterly,  entirely  impossible  that  Folco,  without 
help,  could  have  dragged  the  dead  boy  farther.  When 
he  had  gone  on  his  pretended  search  he  had  not  been 
alone  ;  one  of  the  men  had  ridden  with  him,  and  had 
never  lost  sight  of  him,  as  Ercole  easily  ascertained 
without  seeming  to  ask  questions.  Ercole  had  obtained 
a  pretty  fair  knowledge  of  Corbario's  movements  on 
that  day,  and  it  appeared  that  he  had  not  been  absent 
from  the  cottage  more  than  half  an  hour  at  any  time 
before  he  went  to  look  for  Marcello. 


84  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

44  If  Corbario  himself  had  disappeared  in  that  way," 
said  Ercole  to  himself  and  Nino,  "  it  would  be  easy  to 
understand.  We  should  know  that  the  devil  had 
carried  him  off." 

But  no  such  supernatural  intervention  of  the  infernal 
powers  could  be  supposed  in  Marcello's  case,  and 
Ercole  racked  his  brains  to  no  purpose,  and  pondered 
mad  schemes  for  carrying  Corbario  off  out  of  Rome  to 
a  quiet  place  where  he  would  extract  the  truth  from 
him,  and  he  growled  at  the  impossibility  of  such  a 
thing,  and  fell  to  guessing  again. 

In  the  magnificent  library  of  the  villa  on  the  Janicu- 
lum.  Folco  was  guessing,  too,  and  with  no  better  result. 
But  because  he  could  not  guess  right,  and  could  get 
no  news  of  Marcello,  his  eyes  were  growing  hollow  and 
iiis  cheeks  wan. 

The  lawyers  came  and  talked  about  the  will,  and 
explained  to  him  that  all  the  great  property  was  his, 
unless  Marcello  came  back,  and  that  in  any  case  he  was 
to  administer  it.  They  said  that  if  no  news  of  the  boy 
were  obtained  within  a  limited  time,  the  law  must  take 
it  for  granted  that  he  had  perished  in  some  unaccount 
able  way.  Folco  shook  his  head. 

••He  must  be  found,"  he  said.  u  I  have  good  nerves, 
l)iit  if  I  do  not  find  out  what  has  become  of  him  I  shall 
go  mad." 

The  lawyers  spoke  of  courage  and  patience,  but  a 
sickly  smile  twisted  Folco's  lips. 

"  Put  yourself  in  my  place,  if  you  can,"  he  answered. 

The  lawyers,  who  knew  the  value  of  the  property  to 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  85 

a  farthing,  wished  they  could,  though  if  they  had 
known  also  what  was  passing  in  his  mind  they  might 
have  hesitated  to  exchange  their  lot  for  his. 

"He  was  like  your  own  son,"  they  said  sympa 
thetically.  "  A  wife  and  a  son  gone  on  the  same 
day  !  It  is  a  tragedy.  It  is  more  than  a  man  can 
bear." 

"  It  is  indeed  I  "  answered  Corbario  in  a  low  voice 
and  looking  away. 

Almost  the  same  phrases  were  exchanged  each  time 
that  the  two  men  came  to  the  villa  about  the  business, 
and  when  they  left  they  never  failed  to  look  at  each 
other  gravely  and  to  remark  that  Folco  was  a  person 
of  the  deepest  feeling,  to  whom  §uch  an  awful  trial  was 
almost  worse  than  death  ;  and  the  elder  lawyer,  who 
was  of  a  religious  turn  of  mind,  said  that  if  such  a 
calamity  befell  him  he  would  retire  from  the  world, 
but  the  younger  answered  that,  for  his  part,  he  would 
travel  and  see  the  world  and  try  to  divert  his  thoughts. 
In  their  different  wa}*s  they  were  hard-headed,  experi 
enced  men ;  yet  neither  of  them  suspected  for  a 
moment  that  there  was  anything  wrong.  Both  were 
honestly  convinced  that  Folco  had  been  a  model  hus 
band  to  his  dead  wife,  and  a  model  father  to  her  lost  son. 
What  they  could  not  understand  was  that  he  should 
not  find  consolation  in  possessing  their  millions,  and 
they  could  only  account  for  the  fact  by  calling  him  a 
person  of  the  deepest  feeling  —  a  feeling,  indeed,  quite 
past  their  comprehension. 

Even  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi  was  impressed  by  the 


86  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

unmistakable  signs  of  suffering  in  his  face.  She  went 
twice  to  see  him  within  three  weeks  after  her  friend's 
death,  and  she  came  away  convinced  that  she  had  mis 
judged  him.  Aurora  did  not  go  with  her,  and  Corbario 
barely  asked  after  her.  He  led  Maddalena  to  his  dead 
wife's  room  and  begged  her  to  take  some  object  that 
had  belonged  to  the  Signora,  in  memory  of  their  long 
friendship.  He  pressed  her  to  accept  a  necklace,  or  a 
bracelet,  or  some  other  valuable  ornament,  but  Madda 
lena  would  only  take  a  simple  little  gold  chain  which 
she  herself  had  given  long  ago. 

Her  own  sorrow  for  her  friend  was  profound  but 
undemonstrative,  as  her  nature  had  grown  to  be. 
Aurora  saw  it,  and  never  referred  to  it,  speaking  only 
now  and  then  of  Marcello,  to  ask  if  there  were  any 
news  of  him. 

"  He  is  not  dead,"  the  girl  said  one  day.  "  I  know 
he  will  come  back.  He  went  away  because  I  called 
him  a  baby.'* 

Her  mother  smiled  sadly  and  shook  her  head. 

"Did  you  love  him,  dear?  "  she  asked  softly. 

"  We  were  children  then,"  Aurora  answered.  "  How 
do  I  know  ?  I  shall  know  when  he  comes  back." 

It  was  true  that  the  girl  had  changed  within  a  few 
weeks,  and  her  mother  saw  it.  Her  smile  was  not  the 
same,  and  her  eyes  were  deeper.  She  had  begun  to 
gather  her  hair  in  a  knot,  closer  to  her  head,  and  that 
altered  her  expression  a  little  and  made  her  look  much 
older  ;  but  there  was  more  than  that,  there  was  some- 
tliing  very  hard  to  describe,  something  one  might  call 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  87 

conviction  —  the  conviction  that  the  world  is  real, 
which  comes  upon  girlhood  as  suddenly  as  waking 
on  sleep,  or  sleep  on  waking.  She  had  crossed  the 
narrow  borderland  between  play  and  earnest,  and  she 
had  crossed  it  very  soon. 

"He  will  come  back,"  she  said.  "He  went  away 
on  that  little  ship  that  was  tossing  in  the  storm.  I 
know  it,  though  I  cannot  tell  how  he  got  out  to  it 
through  the  breaking  waves." 

"  That  is  perfectly  impossible,  child,"  said  Maddalena 
with  certainty. 

"  Never  mind.  If  we  knew  what  ship  that  was,  and 
where  she  is  now,  we  could  find  Mar  cello.  I  am  as 
sure  of  it  as  I  am  sure  of  seeing  you  at  this  moment. 
You  know  you  often  say  that  my  presentiments  come 
true.  As  soon  as  we  knew  he  was  gone  I  thought  of 
the  little  ship." 

It  was  natural,  perhaps.  The  picture  of  the  small 
brigantine,  fighting  for  existence,  had  graved  itself 
in  her  memory.  With  its  crew  so  near  death,  it  had 
been  the  only  thing  within  sight  that  suggested  human 
life  after  Marcello  was  gone.  The  utter  impossibility 
of  a  man's  swimming  out  through  the  raging  sea  that 
broke  upon  the  bar  was  nothing  compared  with  Aurora's 
inward  conviction  that  the  little  vessel  had  borne  away 
the  secret  of  his  disappearance.  And  she  had  not  been 
wrecked :  Aurora  knew  that,  for  a  wreck  anywhere  on 
the  Roman  shore  would  have  been  spoken  of  at  once. 
They  are  unfortunately  common  enough,  and  since  her 
childhood  Aurora  had  more  than  once  seen  a  schooner's 


88  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

masts  sticking  up  out  of  the  treacherous  water  a  cable's 
length  from  the  shore.  The  brigantine  had  got  away, 
for  the  gale  had  moderated  very  suddenly,  as  spring 
gales  do  in  tin-  rranean,  just  when  the  captain 

was  making  up  his  mind  to  let  go  both  anchors  and 
make  a  desperate  attempt  to  save  his  vessel  by  riding 
out  the  storm  —  a  forlorn  hope  with  such  ground  tackle 
as  he  had  in  his  chain  lockers.  And  then  he  had  stood 
out,  and  had  sailed  away,  one  danger  more  behind  him 
in  his  hard  life,  and  one  less  ahead.  He  had  sailed 
away  —  whither  ?  No  one  could  tell.  Those  little 
vessels,  built  in  the  south  of  Italy,  often  enough  take 
salt  to  South  America,  and  are  sold  there,  cargo  and 
all ;  and  some  of  the  crew  stay  there,  and  some  get 
other  ships,  but  almost  all  are  dispersed.  The  keeper 
of  the  San  Lorenzo  tower,  who  had  been  a  deep-water 
man,  had  told  Aurora  about  it.  He  himself  had  once 
gone  out  in  a  Sicilian  brigantine  from  Trapani,  and  had 
stayed  away  three  years,  knocking  about  the  world  in 
all  sorts  of  crat't. 

Yet  this  one  might  have  been  on  a  coastwise  trip  to 
Genoa  and  Marseilles.  That  was  quite  possible.  If 
one  could  only  find  out  her  name.  And  yet,  if  she 
had  put  into  a  near  port  Marcello  would  have  come 
back ;  for  Aurora  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  got  on 
board  her  somehow.  It  was  all  a  mystery,  all  but  the 
certainty  she  felt  that  he  was  still  alive,  and  which 
nothing  could  shake,  even  when  every  one  else  had 
given  him  up.  Aurora  begged  her  mother  to  speak  to 
Corbario  about  it.  With  his  experience  and  knowledge 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  89 

of  things  he  would  know  what  to  do  ;  he  could  find 
some  way  of  tracing  the  vessel,  wherever  she  might 
be. 

The  Contessa  was  convinced  that  the  girl's  theory 
was  utterly  untenable,  and  it  was  only  to  please  her 
that  she  promised  to  speak  of  it  if  she  saw  Corbario 
again.  Soon  afterward  she  decided  to  leave  Rome  for 
the  summer,  and  before  going  away  she  went  once 
more  to  the  villa.  It  was  now  late  in  June,  and  she 
found  Folco  in  the  garden  late  in  the  afternoon. 

He  looked  ill  and  tired,  but  she  thought  him  a  little 
less  thin  than  when  she  had  seen  him  last.  He  said 
that  he,  too,  meant  to  leave  Rome  within  a  few  days, 
that  he  intended  to  go  northward  first  to  see  an  old 
friend  of  his  who  had  recently  returned  from  South 
America,  and  that  he  should  afterwards  go  down  to 
Calabria,  to  San  Domenico,  and  spend  the  autumn 
there.  He  had  no  news  of  Marcello.  He  looked 
thoughtfully  down  at  his  hands  as  he  said  this  in  a 
tone  of  profound  sorrow. 

"Aurora  has  a  fixed  idea,"  said  Maddalena.  "While 
she  was  talking  with  Marcello  at  the  gap  in  the  bank 
there  was  a  small  ship  tossing  about  not  far  from  the 
shore." 

"  Well ?  "  asked  Corbario.     "  What  of  it?  " 

As  he  looked  up  from  the  contemplation  of  his  hands 
Maddalena  was  struck  by  his  extreme  pallor  and  the 
terrible  hollowness  of  his  eyes. 

"  How  ill  you  look  !  "  she  exclaimed,  almost  involun 
tarily.  "  The  sooner  you  go  away  the  better." 


90  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

M  \Vliat  did  Aurora  say  about  the  brigantine  ?  "  he 
asked  earnestly,  by  way  of  answer. 

Maddalena  knew  too  little  about  the  sea  to  under 
stand  that  he  must  have  noticed  the  vessel's  rig  to 
name  it  correctly,  as  he  did,  and  without  hesitation. 

"  She  is  convinced  that  Marcello  got  on  board  of 
her,"  she  answered. 

Corbario's  face  relaxed  a  little,  and  he  laughed 
harshly. 

44  That  is  utterly  absurd  !  "  he  answered.  44  No 
swimmer  that  ever  lived  could  have  got  to  her,  nor 
any  boat  either  !  There  was  a  terrific  surf  on  the  bar." 

44  Of  course  not,"  assented  Maddalena.  44  But  you 
saw  the  ship,  too  ? " 

44  Yes.  Aurora  was  looking  at  her  when  I  reached 
the  gap.  That  is  why  I  noticed  the  vessel,"  Corbario 
at  I  led,  as  if  by  an  afterthought.  "She  was  a  Sicilian 
brigantine,  and  was  carrying  hardly  any  sail.  If  the 
gale  had  lasted  she  would  probably  have  been  driven 
ashore.  Her  only  chance  would  have  been  to  drop 
anchor." 

44  You  know  all  about  ships  and  the  sea,  don't 
you  ?  "  asked  Maddalena,  with  a  very  little  curiosity, 
but  without  any  particular  intention. 

44  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  Corbario,  as  if  he  were  protesting 
against  something.  44 1  have  made  several  long 
voyages,  and  I  have  a  knack  of  remembering  the 
names  of  things,  nothing  more." 

44  I  did  not  mean  to  suggest  that  you  had  been  a 
sailor,"  Maddalena  answered. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  91 

*"  What  an  idea  !     I,  a  sailor  !  " 

He  seemed  vaguely  amused  at  the  idea.  The  Con- 
tessa  took  leave  of  him,  after  giving  him  her  address 
in  the  north  of  Italy,  and  begging  him  to  write  if  he 
found  any  clue  to  Marcello's  disappearance.  He 
promised  this,  and  they  parted,  not  expecting  to  meet 
again  until  the  autumn. 

In  a  few  days  they  had  left  Rome  for  different 
destinations.  The  little  apartment  near  the  Forum 
of  Trajan  where  the  Contessa  and  her  daughter  lived 
was  shut  up,  and  at  the  great  villa  on  the  Janiculum 
the  solemn  porter  put  off  his  mourning  livery  and 
dressed  himself  in  brown  linen,  and  smoked  endless 
pipes  within  the  closed  gates  when  it  was  not  too 
hot  to  be  out  of  doors.  The  horses  were  turned  out 
to  grass,  and  the  coachman  and  grooms  departed  to 
the  country.  The  servants  opened  the  windows  in  the 
early  morning,  shut  them  at  ten  o'clock  against  the 
heat,  and  dozed  the  rest  of  the  time,  or  went  down 
into  the  city  to  gossip  with  their  friends  in  the  after 
noon.  It  was  high  summer,  and  Rome  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  WHAT  do  we  eat  to-day  ?  "  asked  Paoluccio,  the 
innkeeper  on  the  Frascati  road,  as  he  came  in  from 
the  glare  and  the  dust  and  sat  down  in  his  own  black 
kitchen. 

44  Beans  and  oil,"  answered  his  wife. 

44  An  apoplexy  take  you  !  "  observed  the  man,  by 
way  of  mild  comment. 

44  It  is  Friday,"  said  the  woman,  unmoved,  though  she 
was  of  a  distinctly  apoplectic  habit. 

The  kitchen  was  also  the  eating-room  where  meals 
were  served  to  the  wine-carters  on  their  way  to  Rome 
and  back.  The  beams  and  walls  were  black  with  the 
smoke  of  thirty  years,  for  no  whitewash  had  come  near 
them  since  thfe  innkeeper  had  married  Nanna.  It  was 
a  rich,  crusty  black,  lightened  here  and  there  to  choco 
late  brown,  and  shaded  off  again  to  the  tint  of  strong 
coffee.  High  overhead  three  hams'  and  half  a  dozen 
huge  sausages  hung  slowly  curing  in  the  acrid  wood 
smoke.  There  was  an  open  hearth,  waist  high,  for 
roasting,  and  having  three  square  holes  sunk  in  it  for 
cooking  with  chsimml.  An  enormous  bunch  of  green 
ferns  had  been  hung  by  a  long  string  from  the  highest 
beam  to  attract  the  flies,  which  swarmed  on  it  like  bees 
on  a  branch.  The  floor  was  of  beaten  cement,  well 

92 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  93 

swept  and  watered.  Along  three  of  the  walls  there 
were  heavy  tables  of  rough-hewn  oak,  with  benches, 
polished  by  long  and  constant  use.  A  trap-door 
covered  the  steps  that  led  down  to  the  deep  cellar, 
which  was  nothing  but  a  branch  of  those  unexplored 
catacombs  that  undermine  the  Campagna  in  all  direc 
tions.  The  place  was  dim,  smoky,  and  old,  but  it  was 
not  really  dirty,  for  in  his  primitive  way  the  Roman 
wine-carter  is  fastidious.  It  is  not  long  since  he  used 
to  bring  his  own  solid  silver  spoon  and  fork  with  him, 
and  he  will  generally  rinse  a  glass  out  two  or  three 
times  before  he  will  drink  out  of  it. 

The  kitchen  of  the  inn  was  cool  compared  with  the 
road  outside,  and  though  it  smelt  chiefly  of  the  stale 
smoke  of  green  wood,  this  was  pervaded  and  tempered 
by  odours  of  fern,  fresh  cabbages,  goats'-milk  cheese, 
and  sour  red  wine.  The  brown  earthen  pot  simmered 
over  one  of  the  holes  in  the  hearth,  emitting  little  clouds 
of  steam  ;  but  bpiling  beans  have  no  particular  smell, 
as  everybody  knows. 

Paoluccio  had  pushed  his  weather-beaten  soft  hat 
back  on  his  head,  and  sat  drumming  on  the  oak  table 
with  his  knotty  fingers.  He  was  a  strong  man,  thick 
set  and  healthy,  with  grizzled  hair  and  an  intensely 
black  beard.  His  wife  was  fat,  and  purple  about  the 
jaws  and  under  the  ears.  She  stood  with  her  back  to 
the  hearth,  looking  at  him,  with  a  wooden  spoon  in  her 
hand. 

"  Beans,"  she  said  slowly,  and  she  looked  up  at  the 
rafters  and  down  again  at  her  husband. 


94  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

44  You  have  told  me  so,"  he  growled,  "  and  may  the 
devil  fly  away  with  you  !  " 

*•  iicaiis  are  not  good  for  people  who  have  the  fever," 
obsennl  N.nma. 

"Beans  are  rather  heavy  food,"  assented  the  inn 
keeper,  apparently  understanding.  "  Bread  and  water 
are  better.  Pour  a  little  oil  on  the  bread." 

44  A  man  who  has  the  fever  may  die  of  eating  beans," 
said  Nanna  thoughtfully.  "This  is  also  to  be  con 
sidered." 

44  It  is  true."  Paoluccio  looked  at  his  wife  in  silence 
for  a  moment.  "  But  a  person  who  is  dead  must  be 
buried,"  he  continued,  as  if  he  had  discovered  some 
thing.  4*  When  a  person  is  dead,  he  is  dead,  whether  he 
dies  of  eating  beans  or  —  " 

He  broke  off  significantly,  and  his  right  hand,  as  it 
lay  before  him,  straightened  itself  and  made  a  very 
slight  vibrating  motion,  with  the  fingers  all  close  to 
gether.  It  is  the  gesture  that  means  the  knife  among 
the  southern  people.  Nanna  instantly  looked  round, 
to  be  sure  that  no  one  else  was  in  the  room. 

44  When  you  have  given  that  medicine,  you  cannot 
send  for  the  doctor,"  she  observed,  lowering  her  voice. 
k>  But  if  lie  cats,  and  dies,  what  can  any  one  say?  We 
have  fed  him  for  charity  ;  it  is  Friday  and  we  have 
given  him  beans.  What  can  we  know  ?  Are  not  beans 
good  food  ?  We  have  nothing  else,  and  it  is  for  charity, 
and  we  give  what  we  have.  I  don't  think  they  could 
expect  us  to  give  him  chickens  and  French  wine,  could 
th.-y?" 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  95 

Paoluccio  growled  approval. 

"  It  is  forty-seven  days,"  continued  Nanna.  "  You 
can  make  the  account.  Chickens  and  milk  and  fresh 
meat  for  forty-seven  days  !  Even  the  bread  comes  to 
something  in  that  time,  at  least  two  soldi  a  day  —  two 
forties  eighty,  two  sevens  fourteen,  ninety-four  — 
nearly  five  francs.  Who  will  give  us  the  five  francs  ? 
Are  we  princes  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  cow,"  observed  Paoluccio  with  a  grin. 

"  Imbecile,"  retorted  his  wife.  "  It  has  been  a  good 
year  ;  we  bought  the  wine  cheap,  we  sell  it  dear,  with 
out  counting  what  we  get  for  nothing  from  the  carters; 
we  buy  a  cow  with  our  earnings,  and  where  is  the 
miracle  ?  " 

The  innkeeper  looked  towards  the  door  and  the  small 
window  suspiciously  before  he  answered  in  a  IQW  voice. 

"  If  I  had  not  been  sure  that  he  would  die,  I  would 
not  have  sold  the  watch  and  chain,"  he  said.  "  In  the 
house  of  my  father  we  have  always  been  honest 
people." 

"  He  will  die,"  answered  Nanna,  confidently  and  with 
emphasis.  "  The  girl  says  he  is  hungry  to-day.  He 
shall  eat  beans.  They  are  white  beans,  too,  and  the 
white  are  much  heavier  than  the  brown." 

She  lifted  the  tin  cover  off  the  earthen  pot  and 
stirred  the  contents. 

"  White  beans  I  "  grumbled  Paoluccio.  "  And  the 
weather  is  hot.  Do  you  wish  to  kill  me  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Nanna  quietly.     "  Not  you." 

"  Do  you-  know  what  I  say  ?  "     Paoluccio  planted  a 


W  WHOSOEVEK   SHALL   OFFEND 

huge  finger  on  the  oaken  board.  "That  sick  butterfly 
uj>8tairs  is  tougher  than  I  am.  Forty-seven  days  of 
fever,  and  nothing  but  bread  and  water  !  Think  of 
that,  my  Nanna  !  Think  of  it!  You  or  I  would  be 
consumed,  one  would  not  even  see  our  shadows  on  the 
floor  !  But  he  lives." 

44  If  he  eats  the  white  beans  he  has  finished  living," 
remarked  Nanna. 

A  short  silence  followed,  during  which  Paoluccio 
seemed  to  be  meditating,  and  Nanna  began  to  ladle  the 
beans  out  into  four  deep  earthenware  bowls,  roughly 
glazed  and  decorated  with  green  and  brown  stripes. 

»•  You  are  a  jewel  ;  you  are  the  joy  of  my  heart,"  he 
observed  thoughtfully,  as  Nanna  placed  his  portion 
before  him,  covered  it  with  oil,  and  scattered  some 
chopped^  basil  on  the  surface. 

44  Eat,  my  love,"  she  said,  and  she  cut  a  huge  piece 
from  a  coarse  loaf  and  placed  it  beside  him  on  a  folded 
napkin  that  looked  remarkably  clean  in  such  surround 
ings,  and  emitted  a  pleasant  odour  of  dried  lavender 
blossoms. 

44  Where  is  the  girl  ?  "  asked  Paoluccio,  stirring  the 
mess  and  blowing  upon  it. 

As  he  spoke,  the  door  was  darkened,  and  the  girl 
stood  there  with  a  large  copper  44  conca,"  the  water-jar 
of  the  Roman  province,  balanced  on  her  head  —  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  human  beings  on  whom  the  sun  of 
the  Campagna  ever  shone.  She  was  tall,  and  she  bent 
her  knees  without  moving  her  neck,  in  order  to  enter 
the  door  without  first  setting  down  the  heavy  vessel. 


"  .    .    .   THE   DOOR  WAS  DARKENED,    AND    THE   GIRL    STOOD    THERE   WITH 
A   LARGE   COPPER   ' CONCA '    ..." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  97 

Her  thick  dark  hair  grew  low  on  her  forehead,  almost 
black,  save  for  the  reddish  chestnut  lights  where  a  few 
tiny  ringlets  curled  themselves  about  her  small  and 
classic  ears.  Straight  black  eyebrows  outlined  the 
snow-white  forehead,  and  long  brown  lashes  shaded  the 
fearless  eyes,  that  looked  black  too.  She  smiled  a  little, 
quite  unconsciously,  as  she  lowered  herself  with  the 
weight  and  gracefully  rose  to  her  height  again  after  she 
had  entered.  One  shapely  brown  hand  steadied  the 
conca  above,  the  other  gathered  her  coarse  skirt;  then  she 
stood  still,  lifted  the  load  from  her  head  with  both  hands 
and  without  any  apparent  effort,  and  set  it  down  in  its 
place  on  a  stone  slab  near  the  hearth.  Most  women  need 
a  little  help  to  do  that. 

She  laid  aside  the  twisted  cloth  on  which  the  conca 
had  rested  while  she  carried  it,  and  she  smoothed  her 
hair  carelessly. 

"  There  are  beans,"  said  Nanna,  giving  the  girl  one 
of  the  bowls.  "  There  is  the  bread.  While  they  are 
cooling  take  the  other  portion  upstairs." 

The  girl  looked  at  the  bowl,  and  at  Nanna,  and  then 
at  Paoluccio,  and  stood  stock  still. 

"  Hey,  there  !  "  the  man  cried,  with  a  rough  laugh. 
"  Hey  !  Reginella  !  Are  you  going  to  sleep,  or  are 
you  turning  into  a  statue  ?  " 

"  Am  I  to  give  him  the  beans  to  eat  ?  "  asked  Regina, 
looking  hard  at  the  innkeeper. 

"  You  said  he  was  hungry.  That  is  what  there  is  for 
dinner.  We  give  him  what  we  have." 

Regina's  dark  eyes  lightened  ;  her  upper  lip  rose  in  a 


98  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

curve  and  showed  her  closed  teeth,  strong  and  white  as 
those  of  a  young  animal. 

44  Do  as  you  are  told,"  added  Paoluccio.  "  This 
is  charity.  When  you  examine  your  conscience 
at  Easter  you  can  say,  4 1  have  fed  the  hungry  and 
cared  for  the  sick.'  The  beans  are  mine,  of  course, 
but  that  makes  no  difference.  I  make  you  a  present  of 
them." 

44  Thank  you  I  " 

44  Welcome,"  answered  Paoluccio,  with  his  mouth 
full. 

Regina  took  the  fourth  bowl  and  a  piece  of  bread  and 
went  out.  The  steps  to  the  upper  part  of  the  house 
were  on  the  outside,  as  is  common  in  the  houses  of  the 
Carapagna. 

44  How  old  is  she  ? "  Paoluccio  asked  when  she  was 
gone. 

44  She  must  be  twenty,"  answered  Nanna.  44  It  must 
be  ten  years  since  her  mother  died,  and  her  mother  said 
she  was  ten  years  old.  She  has  eaten  many  loaves  in 
this  house." 

44  She  has  worked  for  her  food,"  said  the  innkeeper. 
44  And  she  is  an  honest  girl." 

44  What  did  you  expect  ?  That  I  should  let  her  be 
idle,  or  make  eyes  at  the  carters?  But  you  always 
defend  her,  because  she  is  pretty,  you  ugly  scamp  !  " 

Nanna  uttered  her  taunt  in  a  good-natured  tone,  but 
she  glanced  furtively  at  her  husband  to  see  the  effect  of 
her  words,  for  it  was  not  always  safe  to  joke  with 
Paoluccio. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  99 

"  If  I  did  not  defend  her,"  he  answered,  "  you  would 
beat  the  life  out  of  her." 

"I  daresay,"  replied  Nanna,  and  filled  her  mouth 
with  beans. 

"  But  now,"  said  Paoluccio,  swallowing,  "  if  you  are 
not  careful  she  will  break  all  your  bones.  She  has  the 
health  of  a  horse." 

So  the  couple  discussed  matters  amiably,  while 
Regina  was  out  of  the  way. 

In  a  garret  that  had  a  small  unglazed  window  look 
ing  to  the  north,  the  girl  was  bending  over  a  wretched 
trestle-bed,  which  was  literally  the  only  piece  of  furni 
ture  in  the  room  ;  and  on  the  coarse  mattress,  stuffed 
with  the  husks  and  leaves  of  maize,  lay  all  that  the 
fever  had  left  of  Marcello  Consalvi,  shivering  under  a 
tattered  brown  blanket.  There  was  little  more  than 
the  shadow  of  the  boy,  and  his  blue  eyes  stared  dully 
up  at  the  girl's  face.  But  there  was  life  in  him  still, 
thanks  to  her,  and  though  there  was  no  expression  in 
his  gaze,  his  lips  smiled  faintly,  and  faint  words  came 
from  them. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  "  I  am  better  to-day.  Yes,  I 
could  eat  something." 

Regina  bent  lower,  smiling  happily,  and  she  kissed 
the  boy's  face  three  times  ;  she  kissed  his  eyes  and  dry 
lips.  And  he,  too,  smiled  again. 

Then  she  left  the  bedside  and  went  to  a  dark  corner, 
where  she  cautiously  moved  aside  a  loose  board.  From 
the  recess  she  took  a  common  tumbler  and  a  bottle  of 
old  wine  and  a  battered  iron  spoon.  She  crouched 


100  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

•apon  the  floor,  because  there  was  no  table;  she  look- 
two  fresh  eggs  out  of  the  folds  of  the  big  red  and  yel 
low  cotton  handkerchief  that  covered  her  shoulders  and 
was  crossed  over  her  bosom,  and  she  broke  them  into 
the  glass,  and  hid  the  empty  shells  carefully  in  the  folds 
again,  so  that  they  should  not  be  found  in  the  room. 
For  she  had  stolen  these  for  Marcello,  as  usual,  as  well 
as  the  old  wine.  She  poured  a  little  of  the  latter  into 
the  glass  and  stirred  the  eggs  quickly  and  softly,  mak 
ing  hardly  any  noise.  From  the  recess  in  the  wall  she 
got  a  little  sugar,  which  was  wrapped  up  in  a  bit  of 
newspaper  brown  with  age  and  smoke,  and  she  sweet 
ened  the  eggs  and  wine  and  stirred  again ;  and  at  last 
she  came  and  fed  Marcello  with  the  battered  spoon. 
She  had  put  off  her  coarse  slippers  and  walked  about  in 
her  thick  brown  woollen  stockings,  lest  she  should  be 
heard  below.  She  was  very  quiet  and  skilful,  and  she 
h;id  strangely  small  and  gentle  hands  for  a  peasant  girl. 
Marcello's  head  was  propped  up  by  her  left  arm  while 
she  fed  him. 

She  had  kept  him  alive  six  weeks,  and  she  had  saved 
his  life.  She  had  found  him  lying  against  the  door  of 
the  inn  at  dawn,  convulsed  with  ague  and  almost 
unconscious,  and  had  carried  him  into  the  house  like  a 
child,  though  he  had  been  much  heavier  then.  Of 
course  the  innkeeper  had  taken  his  watch  and  chain, 
and  his  jacket  and  sleeve-links  and  studs,  to  keep  them 
safe,  he  said.  Regina  knew  what  that  meant,  but  Pao- 
luccio  had  ordered  her  to  take  care  of  him,  and  she  had 
done  her  best.  Paoluccio  felt  that  if  the  boy  died  it 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  101 

would  be  the  will  of  heaven,  and  that  he  probably 
would  not  live  long  with  such  care  and  such  nourish 
ment  as  he  would  get'up  there  in  the  attic.  When  he 
was  dead,  it  would  be  time  enough  to  tell  the  carabineers 
who  passed  the  house  twice  every  twenty-four  hours  on 
their  beat ;  they  would  see  that  a  sick  boy  had  been 
taken  in,  and  that  he  had  died  of  the  fever,  and  as  they 
need  never  know  how  long  he  had  been  in  the  inn,  the 
whole  affair  would  redound  to  Paoluccio's  credit  with 
them  and  with  customers.  But  as  long  as  he  was  alive 
it  was  quite  unnecessary  that  any  one  should  know  of 
his  existence,  especially  as  the  watch  and  chain  had 
been  converted  into  money,  and  the  money  into  a  fine 
young  cow.  That  Marcello  could  get  well  on  bread 
and  water  never  entered  Paoluccio's  head. 

But  he  had  counted  without  Regina ;  that  is  to  say 
that  he  had  overlooked  the  love  and  devotion  of  an 
intensely  vital  creature,  younger,  quicker,  and  far  clev 
erer  that  he,  who  would  watch  the  sick  boy  day  and 
night,  steal  food  and  wine  for  him,  lose  sleep  for  him, 
risk  blows  for  him,  and  breathe  her  strong  life  into  his 
weak  body ;  to  whom  the  joy  of  saving  him  from  death 
would  be  so  much  greater  than  all  fatigue,  that  there 
would  be  no  shadow  under  her  eyes,  no  pallor  in  her 
cheek,  no  weariness  in  her  elastic  gait  to  tell  of  sleep 
less  nights  spent  by  his  bedside  in  soothing  his  ravings, 
or  in  listening  for  the  beat  of  his  heart  when  he  lay  still 
and  exhausted,  his  tired  head  resting  on  her  strong 
white  arm.  And  when  he  seemed  better  and  at  ease 
she  often  fell  asleep  beside  him,  half  sitting,  half  lying, 


102  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

on  the  pallet  bed,  her  cheek  on  the  straw  pillow,  he? 
breath  mingling  with  his  in  the  dark. 

He  was  better  now,  and  she  felt  the  returning  life  in 
him,  almost  before  he  was  sure  of  it  himself ;  and  while 
her  heart  was  almost  bursting  with  happiness,  so  that 
she  smiled  to  herself  throughout  her  rough  work  all 
day  long,  she  knew  that  he  could  not  stay  where  he 
was.  Paoluccio  expected  him  to  die,  and  was  begin 
ning  to  be  tired  of  waiting,  and  so  was  Nanna.  If  he 
recovered,  he  would  ask  for  his  watch  and  other  things ; 
he  was  evidently  a  fine  young  gentleman  to  whom  some 
strange  accident  had  happened,  and  he  must  have 
friends  somewhere.  Half  delirious,  he  had  spoken  of 
them  and  of  his  mother,  and  of  some  one  called  Aurora, 
whom  Regina  already  hated  with  all  her  heart  and  soul. 
The  innkeeper  and  his  wife  had  never  come  near  him 
since  the  former  had  helped  the  girl  to  carry  him  up 
stairs,  but  if  they  suspected  that  he  was  recovering  she 
would  not  be  able  to  prevent  them  from  seeing  him  ; 
and  if  they  did,  she  knew  what  would  happen.  They 
would  send  her  on  an  errand,  and  when  she  came  back 
Marcello  would  be  dead.  She  might  refuse  to  go,  but 
they  were  strong  people  and  would  be  two  to  one. 
I  {rave  as  Regina  was,  she  did  not  dare  to  wait  for  the 
carabineers  when  they  came  by  on  their  beat  and  to  tell 
them  the  truth,  for  she  had  the  Italian  peasant's  horror 
and  dread  of  the  law  and  its  visible  authority;  and 
moreover  she  was  quite  sure  that  Paoluccio  would 
murder  her  if  she  told  the  secret. 

44  If  I  could  only  take  you  to  Rome!  "  she  whispered, 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  103 

bending  over  him  when  he  had  swallowed  the  contents 
of  the  glass.  "  You  could  tell  me  where  your  friends 
are." 

"  Rome  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  vacant  questioning. 

She  nodded  and  smiled,  and  then  sighed.  She  had 
long  been  sure  that  the  fever  had  affected  his  memory, 
and  she  had  tried  many  times  to  awaken  it. 

She  loved  him  because  he  had  the  face  of  an  angel, 
and  was  fair-haired,  and  seemed  so  gentle  and  patient, 
and  smiled  so  sweetly  when  she  kissed  him.  That  was 
all.  He  could  thank  her  ;  he  could  tell  her  that  he  was 
better  or  worse  ;  he  could  speak  of  what  he  saw ;  he 
could  even  tell  her  that  she  was  beautiful,  and  that  was 
much.  He  was  Marcello,  he  had  told  her  that,  but 
when  she  asked  what  other  name  he  had,  he  looked  at 
her  blankly  at  first,  and  then  an  expression  of  painful 
effort  came  over  his  face,  and  she  would  not  disturb 
him  any  more.  He  could  not  remember.  He  did  not 
know  how  he  had  come  to  the  inn  door ;  he  had  been 
walking  in  the  Campagna  alone  and  had  felt  tired. 
He  knew  no  more. 

If  only  she  could  get  him  to  Rome.  It  was  not 
more  than  seven  or  eight  miles  to  the  city,  and  Regina 
had  often  been  there  with  Nanna.  She  had  been  to 
Saint  John  Lateran's  at  midsummer  for  the  great 
festival,  and  she  knew  where  the  hospital  was,  in  which 
famous  professors  cured  every  ill  under  the  sun.  If 
she  could  bring  Marcello  to  them,  he  would  get  well ; 
if  he  stayed  much  longer  at  the  inn,  Paoluccio  would 
kill  him  ;  being  a  woman,  and  a  loving  one,  Regina 


104  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

only  regarded  as  possible  what  she  wished,  where  the 
man  she  loved  was  concerned. 

She  made  up  her  mind  that  if  it  could  not  be  done 
by  any  other  means  she  would  carry  Marcello  all  the 
way.  During  his  illness  she  had  often  lifted  him  from 
his  bed  like  a  little  child,  for  he  was  slightly  built  by 
nature  and  was  worn  to  a  shadow  by  the  fever.  Even 
Aurora  could  have  raised  him,  and  he  was  a  feather 
weight  in  the  arms  of  such  a  creature  as  Regina.  But 
it  would  be  another  matter  to  carry  such  an  awkward 
burden  for  miles  along  the  highroad ;  and  besides,  she 
would  meet  the  carabineers,  and  as  she  would  have  to  go 
at  night,  they  would  probably  arrest  her  and  put  her 
in  prison,  and  Marcello  would  die.  She  must  find 
some  other  way. 

She  laid  his  head  tenderly  on  the  pillow  and  left 
him,  promising  to  come  back  as  soon  as  she  could.  For 
safety  she  had  brought  the  dish  of  beans  with  her, 
lest  Nanna  should  follow  her,  and  she  took  it  with 
her,  just  as  it  was  ;  but  at  the  foot  of  the  outer  stairs 
she  ran  along  the  back  of  the  house  to  the  pig-sty,  and 
emptied  the  mess  into  the  trough,  carefully  scraping 
the  bowl  with  the  spoon  so  that  it  looked  as  if  some 
one  had  eaten  the  contents.  Then  she  went  back  to 
the  kitchen. 

44  Has  he  eaten  ? "  inquired  Nanna,  and  Paoluccio 
looked  up,  too. 

44  You  see,"  answered  Regina,  showing  the  empty  bowl. 

"Health  to  him!"  answered  Paoluccio.  "  He  Las 
a  good  appetite.'* 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  105 

"  Eat  your  own,"  said  Nanna  to  the  girl. 

She  suspected  that  Regina  might  have  eaten  the  beans 
meant  for  Marcello,  but  her  doubt  vanished  as  she  saw 
how  the  hungry  young  thing  devoured  her  own  portion. 

"  Are  there  any  more  left  ?  "  Regina  asked  when  she 
had  finished,  for  she  understood  perfectly  what  was 
going  on  in  the  minds  of  the  other  two. 

She  looked  into  the  earthen  cooking-pot  which  now 
stood  on  the  corner  of  the  hearth. 

"  Not  even  the  smell  of  any  more,"  answered  Nanna. 
"  There  is  bread." 

Regina's  white  teeth  crushed  the  hard  brown  crust 
as  if  she  had  not  eaten  for  a  week.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  but  that  the  sick  boy  had  eaten  the  beans  ;  and 
beans,  especially  white  ones,  are  not  good  for  people 
who  have  the  fever,  as  Nanna  had  justly  observed. 

"  On  Sunday  he  shall  have  a  dish  of  liver  and  cab 
bage,"  she  said,  in  a  cheerful  tone.  "  There  is  much 
strength  in  liver,  and  cabbage  is  good  for  the  blood. 
I  shall  take  it  to  him  myself,  for  it  will  be  a  pleasure 
to  see  him  eat." 

"  The  beans  were  soon  finished,"  said  Regina,  with 
perfect  truth. 

"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be,"  Paoluccio  answered. 

But  Regina  knew  that  the  time  had  come  to  get 
Marcello  away  from  the  inn  if  he  ever  was  to  leave  it 
alive,  and  in  the  afternoon,  when  Nanna  was  dozing  in 
her  chair  in  the  kitchen  and  Paoluccio  was  snoring 
upstairs,  and  when  she  had  smoothed  Marcello's  pillow, 
she  went  out  and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  house,  where 


106  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

there  was  shade  at  that  hour,  though  the  glare  from 
the  dusty  road  would  have  blinded  weaker  eyes  than 
hers.  She  sat  on  the  stone  seat  that  ran  along  the 
house,  and  leaned  against  the  rough  wall,  thinking  and 
scheming,  and  quite  sure  that  she  should  iind  a  way. 

At  first  she  looked  about,  while  she  thought,  from 
the  well-known  mountains  that  bounded  her  world  to 
the  familiar  arches  of  the  distant  aqueduct,  from  the 
dry  ditch  opposite  to  the  burning  sky  above  and  the 
greyish  green  hillocks  below  Tivoli.  But  by  and  by 
she  looked  straight  before  her,  with  a  steady,  concen 
trated  stare,  as  if  she  saw  something  happening  and  was 
watching  to  see  how  it  would  end. 

She  had  found  what  she  wanted,  and  was  quite  sure 
of  it ;  only  a  few  details  remained  to  be  settled,  such  as 
what  was  to  become  of  her  after  she  left  the  inn  where 
she  had  grown  up.  But  that  did  not  trouble  her  much. 

She  was  not  delicately  nurtured  that  she  should  dread 
the  great  world  of  which  she  knew  nothing,  nor  had 
Nanna's  conversation  during  ten  years  done  much  to 
strengthen  her  in  the  paths  of  virtue.  Her  pride  had 
liune  much  more  and  might  save  her  wherever  she  went, 
l»ut  she  was  very  well  aware  of  life's  evil  truths.  And 
what  would  her  pride  be  compared  with  Marcello,  the 
lirst  and  only  being  she  had  ever  loved?  To  begin 
with,  she  knew  that  the  handsome  people  from  the 
country  earned  money  by  serving  as  models  for  painters 
and  sculptors,  and  she  had  not  the  slightest  illusion 
about  her  own  looks.  Since  she  had  been  a  child 
people  who  came  to  the  inn  had  told  her  that  she  was 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  107 

beautiful ;  and  not  the  rough  wine-carters  only,  for  the 
fox-hunters  sometimes  came  that  way,  riding  slowly 
homeward  after  a  long  run,  and  many  a  fine  gentleman 
in  pink  had  said  things  to  her  which  she  had  answered 
sharply,  but  which  she  remembered  well.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  but  that  she  was  one  of  the  hand 
somest  girls  in  Italy,  and  the  absolute  certainty  of  the 
conviction  saved  her  from  having  any  small  vanity 
about  her  looks.  She  knew  that  she  had  only  to  show 
herself  and  that  every  one  would  stand  and  look  at  her, 
only  to  beckon  and  she  would  be  followed.  She  did 
not  crave  admiration  ;  a  great  beauty  rarely  does.  She 
simply  defied  competition,  and  was  ready  to  laugh  at  it 
in  a  rather  good-natured  way,  for  she  knew  what  she 
had,  and  was  satisfied. 

As  for  the  rest,  she  was  merely  clever  and  fearless, 
and  her  moral  inheritance  was  not  all  that  might  be 
desired ;  for  her  father  had  left  her  mother  in  a  fit  of 
pardonable  jealousy,  after  nearly  killing  her  and  quite 
killing  his  rival,  and  her  mother  had  not  redeemed  her 
character  after  his  abrupt  departure.  On  the  contrary, 
if  an  accident  had  not  carried  her  off  suddenly,  Regina's 
virtuous  parent  would  probably  have  sold  the  girl  into 
slavery.  Poor  people  are  not  all  honest,  any  more  than 
other  kinds  of  people  are.  Regina  did  not  mourn  her 
mother,  and  hardly  remembered  her  father  at  all,  and 
she  never  thought  of  either. 

She  owed  Paoluccio  and  Nanna  nothing,  in  her 
opinion.  They  had  fed  her  sufficiently,  and  clothed 
her  decently  for  the  good  of  the  house ;  she  had  done 


108  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

the  work  of  two  women  in  return,  because  she  was 
strong,  and  she  had  been  honest,  because  she  was 
proud.  Even  the  innkeeper  and  his  wife  would  not 
have  pretended  that  she  owed  them  much  gratitude ; 
they  were  much  too  natural  for  that,  and  besides,  the 
girl  was  too  handsome,  and  there  might  be  some  scandal 
about  her  any  day  which  would  injure  the  credit  of  the 
inn.  Nanna  thought  Paoluccio  much  too  fond  of  watch 
ing  her,  as  it  was,  and  reflected  that  if  she  went  to  the 
city  she  would  be  well  out  of  the  way,  and  might  go  to 
the  devil  if  she  pleased. 

Regina's  plan  for  taking  Marcello  was  simple,  like 
most  plans  which  succeed,  and  only  depended  for  its 
success  on  being  carried  out  fearlessly. 

The  wine-carters  usually  came  to  the  inn  from  the 
hills  between  nine  and  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  the 
carts,  heavy-laden  with  wine  casks,  stood  in  a  line  along 
the  road,  while  the  men  went  into  the  kitchen  to  eat 
and  drink.  They  generally  paid  for  what  they  con 
sumed  by  giving  a  measure  or  two  of  wine  from  the 
casks  they  were  bringing,  and  which  they  filled  up  with 
water,  a  very  simple  plan  which  seems  to  have  been  in 
use  for  ages.  It  has  several  advantages ;  the  owner  of 
the  wine  does  not  suffer  by  it,  since  he  gets  his  full 
price  in  town ;  the  man  who  buys  the  wine  in  Rome 
does  not  suffer,  because  he  adds  so  much  water  to  the 
wine  before  selling  it  that  a  little  more  or  less  makes  no 
difference ;  the  public  does  not  suffer,  as  it  is  well 
known  that  wine  is  much  better  for  the  health  when 
drunk  with  plenty  of  water;  and  the  carters  do  not 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  109 

suffer,  because  nobody  would  think  of  interfering  with 
them.  Moreover,  they  get  food  and  drink  for  nothing. 

While  the  men  were  having  supper  in  the  inn,  their 
carts  were  guarded  b}~  their  little  woolly  dogs,  black, 
white,  or  brown,  and  always  terribly  wide-awake  and 
uncommonly  fierce  in  spite  of  their  small  size. 

Now,  just  at  this  time,  there  was  one  carter  who  had 
none,  and  Regina  knew  it,  for  he  was  one  of  her  chief 
admirers.  He  was  the  hardest-drinking  ruffian  of  all 
the  men  who  came  and  went  on  the  Frascati  road,  and 
he  had  been  quite  willing  to  sell  his  dog  in  the  street 
to  a  gentleman  who  admired  it  and  offered  him  fifty 
francs  for  it,  though  that  is  a  small  price  for  a  hand 
some  "lupetto."  But  Mommo  happened  to  be  deeper 
in  debt  than  usual,  took  the  money,  and  cast  about  to 
steal  another  dog  that  might  serve  him.  So  far  he  had 
not  seen  one  to  his  liking. 

It  is  the  custom  of  the  wine-carters,  when  they  have 
had  plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  to  climb  to  their  seals 
under  the  fan-like  goat-skin  hoods  of  their  carts,  and 
to  go  to  sleep,  wrapped  in  their  huge  cloaks.  Their 
mules  plod  along  and  keep  out  of  the  way  of  other 
vehicles  without  any  guidance,  and  their  dogs  protect 
them  from  thieves,  who  might  steal  their  money ;  for 
they  always  carry  the  sum  necessary  to  pay  the  octroi 
duty  at  the  city  gates,  where  every  cart  is  stopped. 
As  they  are  on  the  road  most  of  their  lives,  winter  and 
summer,  they  would  not  get  much  sleep  if  they  tried  to 
keep  awake  all  night;  and  they  drink  a  good  deal, 
partly  because  wine  is  really  a  protection  against  the 


110  WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND 

dangerous  fever,  and  partly  because  their  drink  costs 
them  nothing.  Some  of  them  drank  their  employers' 
wine  at  supper,  others  exchanged  what  they  brought 
for  Paoluccio's,  which  they  liked  better. 

They  usually  got  away  about  midnight,  and  Mommo 
was  often  the  last  to  go.  It  was  a  part  of  Regina's 
work  to  go  down  to  the  cellar  and  draw  the  wine  that 
was  wanted  from  the  hogsheads  when  the  host  was  too 
lazy  to  go  down  himself,  and  being  quite  unwatched  she 
could  draw  a  measure  from  the  oldest  and  strongest  if 
she  chose.  Mommo  could  easily  be  made  a  little  sleepier 
than  usual,  after  being  tempted  to  outstay  the  others. 

And  so  it  turned  out  that  night.  After  the  neces 
sary  operation  of  tapping  one  of  his  casks  and  filling 
it  up  with  water,  he  lingered  on  before  a  measure  of 
the  best,  while  Nanna  and  Paoluccio  dozed  in  their 
chairs  ;  and  at  last  all  three  were  asleep. 

Then  Regina  went  out  softly  into  the  dark  summer 
night,  and  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  attic. 

44 1  am  going  to  take  you  to  Rome  to-night,"  she 
whispered  in  Marcello's  ear. 

44  Rome  ?  "  he  repeated  vaguely,  half  asleep. 

She  wrapped  him  in  the  tattered  blanket  as  he  was, 
and  lifted  him  lightly  in  her  arms.  Down  the  stairs 
she  bore  him,  and  then  lifted  him  upon  the  tail  of  the 
cart,  propping  him  up  as  best  she  could,  and  passing 
round  him  the  end  of  one  of  the  ropes  that  held  the 
casks  in  place.  He  breathed  more  freely  in  the  open 
air,  and  she  had  fed  him  again  before  the  carters  came 
tx'  supper. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  111 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  asked  faintly. 

"  I  shall  walk,"  she  whispered.  "  Now  wait,  and 
make  no  noise,  or  they  will  kill  you.  Are  you  com 
fortable  ?  " 

She  could  see  that  he  nodded  his  head. 

"  We  shall  start  presently,"  she  said. 

She  went  into  the  kitchen,  waked  Mommo,  and 
made  him  swallow  the  rest  of  his  wine.  He  was 
easily  persuaded  that  he  had  slept  too  long,  and  must 
be  on  the  road.  The  innkeeper  and  Nanna  grumbled 
a  good-night  as  he  went  out  rather  unsteadily,  followed 
by  Regina.  A  moment  later  the  mules'  bells  jingled, 
the  cart  creaked,  and  Mommo  was  off. 

Paoluccio  and  his  wife  made  their  way  to  the  outer 
stairs  and  to  bed,  leaving  Regina  to  put  out  the  lights 
and  lock  up  the  kitchen.  She  lost  no  time  in  doing 
this,  ran  up  the  steps  in  the  dark,  hung  the  key  on  its 
nail  in  the  entry,  and  went  to  her  attic,  making  a  loud 
noise  with  her  loose  slippers,  so  that  the  couple  might 
hear  her.  She  came  down  again  in  her  stockings 
almost  at  once,  carrying  the  slippers  and  a  small  bun 
dle  containing  her  belongings.  She  made  no  noise  now, 
though  it  was  almost  quite  dark,  and  in  another  instant 
she  was  out  on  the  road  to  Rome.  It  had  all  been 
done  so  quickly  that  she  could  still  hear  the  jingling 
of  Mommo's  mule  bells  in  the  distance.  She  had  only 
a  few  hundred  yards  to  run,  and  she  was  walking  at 
the  tail  of  the  cart  with  one  hand  resting  on  Marcello's 
knee  as  he  lay  there  wrapped  up  in  the  ragged  blanket. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  clear  dawn,  and  there  was  confusion  at  tin* 
I'ortu  San  Giovanni.  Mommo  had  wakened,  red-eyed 
and  cross  as  usual,  a  little  while  before  reaching  the 
gate,  and  had  uttered  several  strange  noises  to  quicken 
the  pace  of  his  mules.  After  that,  everything  had 
happened  as  usual,  for  a  little  while  ;  he  had  stopped 
inside  the  walls  before  the  guard-house  of  the  city 
customs,  had  nodded  to  the  octroi  inspectors,  and  had 
got  his  money  ready  while  the  printed  receipt  was 
bi'in<j  filled  out.  Then  the  excitement  had  begun. 

"  You  have  a  passenger,"  said  one,  and  Moinmo  stared 
at  him,  not  understanding. 

"  You  have  a  dead  man  on  behind  !  "  yelled  a  small 
boy,  staii'ling  at  safe  distance. 

M": ii HID  began  to  swear,  but  one  of  the  inspectors 
stopped  him. 

"Get  down,"  said  the  man.  "The  carabineers  are 
coming." 

Mommo  finished  his  swearing  internally,  but  \\ifii 
increased  fervour.  The  small  boy  was  joined  by  others, 
and  they  began  to  jeer  in  chorus,  and  perform  war- 
dances. 

"  There  is  a  tax  on  dead  men ! "  they  screamed. 
"  You  must  pay  !  " 

111 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  113 

"  May  you  all  be  butchered  I  "  shouted  Mommo,  in 
a  voice  of  thunder.  "  May  your  insides  be  fried  !  " 

"  Brute  beast,  without  education  !  "  hooted  the  big 
gest  boy,  contemptuously. 

"  I'll  give  you  the  education,  and  the  instruction  too," 
retorted  the  carter,  making  at  them  with  his  long  whip. 

The}^  scattered  in  all  directions,  like  a  flock  of  caw 
ing  jackdaws  that  fly  a  little  way  in  tremendous  haste, 
and  then  settle  again  at  a  distance  and  caw  louder  than 
before. 

"  Animal  !  "  they  yelled.  "  Animal  !  Animal  and 
beast  !  " 

By  this  time  a  crowd  had  collected  round  the  cart, 
and  two  carabineers  had  come  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  quiet,  sensible  men  in  extraordinary  cocked 
hats  and  well-fitting  swallow-tailed  uniforms  of  the 
fashion  of  1810.  The  carabineers  are  quite  the  finest 
corps  in  the  Italian  service,  and  there  are  a  good  many 
valid  reasons  why  their  antiquated  dress  should  not 
be  changed.  Their  presence  means  law  and  order  with 
out  unnecessary  violence. 

Mommo  was  surly,  but  respectful  enough.  Yes,  it 
was  his  cart,  and  he  was  a  regular  carter  on  the  Fras- 
cati  road.  Yes,  this  was  undoubtedly  a  sick  man,  who 
had  climbed  upon  the  cart  while  Mommo  was  asleep. 
Of  course  he  had  slept  on  the  road,  all  carters  did,  and 
he  had  no  dog,  else  no  one  would  have  dared  to  take 
liberties  with  his  cart.  No,  he  had  never  seen  the  sick 
man.  The  carabineers  might  send  him  to  penal  servi 
tude  for  life,  tear  out  his  tongue,  cut  off  his  ears  and 


114  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

nose,  load  him  with  chains,  and  otherwise  annoy  him, 
but  he  had  never  seen  the  sick  man.  If  he  had  seen 
him,  he  would  have  pulled  him  off,  and  kicked  him  all 
the  way  to  the  hospital,  where  he  ought  to  be.  What 
right  had  such  brigands  as  sick  men  to  tamper  with  the 
carts  of  honest  people  ?  If  the  fellow  had  legs  to  jump 
upon  the  cart,  he  had  legs  to  walk.  Had  Mommo  ever 
done  anything  wrong  in  his  life,  that  this  should  be 
done  to  him?  Had  he  stolen,  or  killed  anybody,  or 
tried  to  evade  the  octroi  duty  ?  No.  Then  why  should 
an  ugly  thief  of  a  sick  man  climb  upon  his  cart  ?  The 
wretch  had  hardly  clothes  enough  to  cover  him  decently 
—  a  torn  shirt  and  a  pair  of  old  trousers  that  he  must 
have  stolen,  for  they  were  much  too  short  for  him  ! 
And  so  on,  and  so  forth,  to  the  crowd,  for  the  carabi 
neers  paid  no  more  attention  to  him  after  he  had 
answered  their  first  questions  ;  but  the  crowd  listened 
with  interest,  the  small  boys  drew  near  again,  the 
octroi  inspectors  looked  on,  and  Mommo  had  a  sympa 
thetic  audience.  It  was  the  general  opinion  that  he 
had  been  outrageously  put  upon,  and  that  some  one 
had  murdered  the  sick  man,  and  had  tied  the  body  to 
the  cart  in  order  that  Mommo  should  be  accused  of 
the  crime,  it  being  highly  likely  that  a  murderer  should 
take  so  much  unnecessary  trouble  to  carry  his  victim 
and  the  evidence  of  his  crime  about  with  him  in  such 
a  very  public  manner. 

"  If  he  were  dead,  now,"  observed  an  old  peasant, 
who  had  trudged  in  with  a  bundle  on  his  back,  "  you 
would  immediately  be  sent  to  the  galleys." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  115 

This  was  so  evident  that  the  crowd  felt  very  sorry 
for  Mommo. 

"  Of  course  I  should,"  he  answered.  "  By  this  time 
to-inorrow  I  should  have  chains  on  my  legs,  and  be 
breaking  stones !  What  is  the  law  for,  I  should  like  to 
know?" 

Meanwhile,  the  carabineers  had  lifted  Marcello  very 
gently  from  the  cart  and  had  carried  him  into  the 
octroi  guard-house,  where  they  set  him  in  a  chair, 
wrapped  the  ragged  blanket  round  his  knees  and  waist, 
and  poured  a  little  wine  down  his  throat.  Seeing  that 
he  was  very  weak,  and  having  ascertained  that  he  had 
nothing  whatever  about  him  by  which  he  could  be 
identified,  they  sent  for  the  municipal  doctor  of  that 
quarter  of  the  city. 

While  they  were  busy  within,  one  of  the  inspectors 
chanced  to  look  at  the  closed  window,  and  saw  the  face 
of  a  handsome  girl  pressed  against  the  pane  outside, 
and  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  anxiously  watching  what  was 
going  on.  The  girl  was  so  very  uncommonly  hand 
some  that  the  inspector  went  out  to  look  at  her,  but 
she  saw  him  coming  and  moved  away,  drawing  her 
cotton  kerchief  half  across  her  face.  Regina's  only 
fear  was  that  Mommo  might  recognise  her,  in  which 
case  she  would  inevitably  be  questioned  by  the  cara 
bineers.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  class  in  which 
she  had  been  brought  up,  that  while  she  entertained 
a  holy  dread  of  being  cross-questioned  by  them,  she 
felt  the  most  complete  conviction  that  Marcello  was 
safe  in  their  hands.  She  had  meant  that  he  should 


116  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

somehow  be  taken  off  the  cart  at  the  gate,  probably  by 
the  inspectors,  and  conveyed  at  once  to  the  great  hos 
pital  near  by.  She  knew  nothing  about  hospitals,  and 
supposed  that  when  he  was  once  there,  she  might  be 
allowed  to  come  and  take  care  of  him.  It  would  be 
t'.i-y.  she  thought,  to  invent  some  story  to  account  for 
her  interest  in  him.  But  she  could  do  nothing  until 
Momino  was  gone,  and  he  might  recognise  her  figure 
even  if  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

Finding  that  nothing  more  was  wanted  of  him,  and 
that  he  was  in  no  immediate  danger  of  penal  servitude 
for  having  been  found  with  a  sick  man  on  his  cart, 
Mommo  started  his  mules  up  the  paved  hill  towards 
the  church,  walking  beside  them,  as  the  carters  mostly 
do  within  the  city.  The  crowd  dispersed,  the  small 
boys  went  off  in  search  of  fresh  matter  for  contemptuous 
comment,  and  Regina  went  boldly  to  the  door  of  the 
guard-house. 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  use  with  the  sick  man  ?  "  she  asked 
of  the  inspector  who  had  seen  her  through  the  window. 

The  inspector  prided  himself  on  his  gallantry  and 
good  education. 

"  Signorina,"  he  said,  lifting  his  round  hat  with  a 
magnificent  gesture,  "if  you  were  to  look  only  once  at 
a  dying  man,  he  would  revive  and  live  a  thousand 
years." 

He  made  eyes  at  her  in  a  manner  he  considered  irre 
sistible,  and  replaced  his  hat  on  his  head,  a  little  on 
one  side.  Regina  had  never  been  called  "  Signorina  " 
be- fore,  and  she  was  well  aware  that  no  woman  who 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  117 

wears  a  kerchief  out  of  doors,  instead  of  a  hat,  is 
entitled  to  be  addressed  as  a  lady  in  Rome  ;  but  she  was 
not  at  all  offended  by  the  rank  flattery  of  the  speech, 
and  she  saw  that  the  inspector  was  a  good-natured 
young  coxcomb. 

"You  are  too  kind,"  she  answered  politely.  "Do 
you  think  I  can  be  of  any  use  ?  " 

"  There  are  the  carabineers,"  objected  the  inspector, 
as  if  that  were  a  sufficient  answer.  "  But  you  may  look 
in  through  the  door  and  see  the  sick  man." 

"I  have  seen  him  through  the  window.  He  looks 
very  ill." 

"  Ah,  Signorina,"  sighed  the  youth,  "  if  I  were  ill,  I 
should  pray  the  saints  to  send  you  —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  doctor,  who 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter,  and  was  at  once  led  in 
by  him.  Regina  withdrew  to  a  little  distance  in  the 
direction  of  the  church  and  waited.  The  doctor  had 
come  in  a  cab,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  saw  Marcello 
carried  out  and  placed  in  it.  Then  she  walked  as  fast 
as  she  could  towards  the  church,  quite  sure  that  the 
cab  would  stop  at  the  door  of  the  hospital,  and  anxious 
to  be  within  sight  of  it.  Everything  had  turned  out 
well,  even  beyond  her  expectations.  The  cab  passed 
her  at  a  brisk  pace  before  she  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  though  she  walked  as  fast  as  she  could,  it  was 
no  longer  there  when  she  had  gone  far  enough  to  see 
the  door.  The  doctor,  who  was  a  busy  man,  had  handed 
Marcello  over  to  the  men  on  duty  at  the  entrance,  with 
an  order  he  had  pencilled  on  his  card  while  driving  up, 


118  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

and  had  gone  on  at  once.  But  Regina  was  convinced 
that  Marcello  was  there,  as  she  hurried  forward. 

A  man  in  blue  linen  clothes  and  a  laced  cap  stopped 
her  on  the  steps  and  asked  what  she  wanted. 

"  A  young  man  has  just  been  brought  here,  very  ill," 
she  explained,  "and  I  want  to  see  him." 

"  A  very  young  man  ?  Fair  ?  Thin  ?  From  the 
Campagna  ?  In  rags  ?  " 

44  Yes.     I  want  to  see  him." 

44  You  can  see  him  to-morrow,  if  he  is  alive,"  answered 
the  orderly  in  a  business-like  tone. 

44  To-morrow  ?"  repeated  Regina,  in  a  tone  of  pro 
found  disappointment. 

44  To-morrow  is  Sunday.  Friends  and  relatives  can 
visit  patients  on  Sundays  between  nine  and  four." 

44  But  he  has  no  other  friends,"  pleaded  Regina. 
44  Please,  please  let  me  go  to  him  !  " 

44  To-morrow  between  nine  and  four." 

44  No,  no  —  to-day  —  now  —  he  knows  me  —  my  name 
is  Regina." 

44  Not  if  you  were  the  Queen  of  the  world,"  answered 
the  orderly,  jesting  with  perfect  calm.  "You  must 
have  a  written  order  from  the  Superintendent." 

44  Yes,  yes  !      Let  me  see  him  !  " 

44  You  can  see  him  on  Mondays  between  ten  and 
twelve." 

M  1  lie  day  after  to-morrow?  "  cried  Regina  in  despair. 

44  Yes,  between  ten  and  twelve,  the  day  after  to 
morrow." 

44  But  I  may  come  to-morrow  without  an  order  ?  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  119 

"Yes.  Friends  and  relatives  can  visit  patients  on 
Sundays  between  nine  and  four." 

The  man's  imperturbability  was  exasperating,  and 
Regina,  who  was  not  patient,  felt  that  if  she  stayed 
any  longer  she  should  try  to  take  him  by  the  collar, 
shake  him,  and  force  her  way  in.  But  she  was  much 
too  sensible  to  do  anything  so  rash.  There  was  no 
choice  but  to  go  away. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  to  go  down  the 
steps. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  the  man  answered  very  civilly, 
for  he  was  watching  her  and  was  reflecting  that  he  had 
never  seen  such  a  face  and  figure  before. 

Some  hours  later,  when  the  police  communicated 
with  the  Superintendent,  and  when  he  found  that  a 
woman  had  come  to  the  door  who  said  that  she  knew 
the  waif,  and  had  been  sent  away,  he  called  the  orderly 
who  had  been  on  duty  several  hard  names  in  his  heart 
for  having  followed  the  rule  of  the  hospital  so  scrupu 
lously.  He  was  an  antediluvian,  he  was  a  case  of 
arrested  mental  development,  he  was  an  ichthyosaurus, 
he  was  a  new  kind  of  idiot,  he  was  a  monumental  fool, 
he  was  the  mammoth  ass  reported  to  have  been  seen  by 
a  mediaeval  traveller  in  the  desert,  that  was  forty 
cubits  high,  and  whose  braying  was  like  the  blast  of 
ten  thousand  trumpets.  The  Superintendent  wished 
he  had  time  to  select  more  choice  epithets  for  that 
excellent  orderly,  but  the  police  seemed  so  particularly 
curious  about  the  new  patient  that  he  had  no  leisure 
for  thinking  out  what  he  wanted. 


120  WHOSOEVER   SHALL.   OFFEND 

Nevertheless,  the  man  had  done  his  duty  and  nothing 
more  nor  less  according  to  the  rules,  and  Kegina  \N;»S 
forced  to  go  away  discomfited. 

She  walked  a  hundred  yards  or  more  down  the  hill, 
towards  San  Clemente,  and  then  stood  still  to  think. 
The  sun  had  risen,  and  Marcello  was  safe,  though  she 
could  not  see  him.  That  was  something.  She  stood 
there,  young,  strong,  beautiful,  and  absolutely  penni 
less  ;  and  Rome  was  before  her. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  previous  evening  she 
asked  herself  what  was  to  become  of  her,  and  how  she 
was  to  find  bread  for  that  day  and  for  the  next,  and 
for  all  the  days  afterwards.  She  would  have  robbed  a 
church  to  feed  Marcello,  but  she  would  sooner  have 
lost  her  right  hand  than  steal  so  much  as  a  crust  for 
herself.  As  for  begging,  she  was  too  proud,  and 
besides,  no  one  would  have  given  her  anything,  for  she 
was  the  picture  of  health,  her  rough  clothes  were  whole 
and  clean,  she  had  tiny  gold  earrings  in  her  ears,  and  the 
red  and  yellow  cotton  kerchief  on  her  head  was  as  good 
as  new.  Nobody  would  believe  that  she  was  hungry. 

Mt MII while  Marcello  was  made  comfortable  in  one  of 
the  narrow  white  beds  of  an  airy  ward  in  the  San 
tiiovanni  hospital.  The  institution  is  intended  for 
women  only,  but  there  is  now  a  ward  for  male  patients, 
who  are  admitted  when  too  ill  to  be  taken  farther.  The 
doctor  on  duty  had  written  him  down  as  much  reduced 
by  malarious  fever  and  wandering  in  his  mind,  but 
;n  1< led  that  he  might  live  and  get  well.  It  was  wonder 
ful,  the  doctor  reflected  for  the  thousandth  time  in  his 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  121 

short  experience,  that  humanity  should  bear  so  much 
as  it  daily  did. 

The  visiting  physician,  who  was  a  man  of  learning 
and  reputation,  came  three  hours  later  and  examined 
Marcello  with  interest.  The  boy  had  not  suffered 
much  by  sleeping  on  the  tail  of  the  cart  in  the  warm 
summer's  night,  and  was  now  greatly  refreshed  by  the 
cleanliness  and  comparative  luxury  of  his  new  surround 
ings.  He  had  no  fever  now  and  had  slept  quietly  for 
two  hours,  but  when  he  tried  to  remember  what  had 
happened  to  him,  where  he  had  been,  and  how  he  had 
come  to  the  place  where  he  was,  it  all  grew  vague  and 
intricate  by  turns,  and  his  memories  faded  away  like 
the  dreams  we  try  to  recall  when  we  can  only  just 
recollect  that  we  have  had  a  dream  of  some  sort.  He 
knew  that  he  was  called  Marcello,  but  the  rest  was 
gone  ;  he  knew  that  a  beautiful  creature  had  taken 
care  of  him,  and  that  her  name  was  Regina.  How 
long  ?  How  many  days  and  nights  had  he  lain  in  the 
attic,  hot  by  day  and  cold  at  night  ?  He  could  not 
guess,  and  it  tired  him  to  try. 

The  doctor  asked  two  or  three  questions  while  he 
examined  him,  and  then  stood  quite  still  for  a  few 
seconds,  watching  him  intently.  The  two  young 
house  surgeons  who  accompanied  the  great  man  kept  a 
respectful  silence,  waiting  for  his  opinion.  When  he 
found  an  interesting  case  he  sometimes  delivered  a 
little  lecture  on  it,  in  a  quiet  monotonous  tone  that  did 
not  disturb  the  other  patients.  But  to-day  he  did  not 
seem  inclined  to  talk. 


1-J-J  WHOSOI-:VI:I:  SHALL  OFFKND 

"  Convalescent,"  he  said,  "  at  least  of  the  fever.  He 
needs  good  food  more  than  anything  else.  In  two 
days  he  will  be  walking  about." 

He  passed  on,  but  in  his  own  mind  he  was  wondering 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  young  man,  why  he  had 
lost  his  memory,  and  what  accident  had  brought  him 
alone  and  friendless  to  one  of  the  city  hospitals.  For  the 
present  it  would  be  better  to  let  him  alone  rather  than 
tire  him  by  a  thorough  examination  of  his  head.  There 
was  probably  a  small  fracture  somewhere  at  the  back 
of  the  skull,  the  doctor  thought,  and  it  would  be  easy 
enough  to  find  it  when  the  patient  was  strong  enough 
to  sit  up. 

The  doctor  had  not  been  long  gone  when  an  elderly 
man  with  a  grizzled  moustache  and  thoughtful  eyes  was 
led  to  Marcello's  bedside  by  the  Superintendent  himself. 
The  appearance  of  the  latter  at  an  unusual  hour  was 
always  an  event  in  the  ward,  and  the  nurses  watched 
him  with  curiosity.  They  would  have  been  still  more 
curious  had  they  known  that  the  elderly  gentleman  was 
the  Chief  of  the  Police  himself.  The  Superintendent 
raised  his  hand  to  motion  them  away. 

"  What  is  your  name,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  Chief,  bending 
down  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice. 

"Marcello." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "  you 
are  Marcello.  But  what  else  ?  What  is  your  family 
name  ?  It  is  very  important.  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

The  vague  look  came  into  Marcello's  eyes,  and  then 
the  look  of  pain,  and  he  shook  his  head  rather  feebly. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  123 

"  I  cannot  remember,"  he  answered  at  last.  "  It 
hurts  me  to  remember." 

"  Is   it   Consalvi  ? "    asked   the   officer,   smiling  en 
couragement. 

"  Consalvi  ?  "  Marcello's  eyes  wandered,  as  he  tried 
to  think.  "  I  cannot  remember,"  he  said  again  after 
an  interval. 

The  Chief  of  Police  was  not  discouraged  yet. 

"  You  were  knocked  down  and  robbed  by  thieves, 
just  after  you  had  been  talking  with  Aurora,"  he  said, 
inventing  what  he  believed  to  have  happened. 

A  faint  light  came  into  Marcello's  eyes. 

"  Aurora  ?  "     He  repeated  the  name  almost  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  You  had  been  talking  to  Signorina  Aurora 
dell'  Armi.  You  remember  that  ?  " 

The  light  faded  suddenly. 

"I  thought  I  remembered  something,"  answered 
Marcello.  "  Aurora  ?  Aurora  ?  No,  it  is  gone.  I 
was  dreaming  again.  I  want  to  sleep  now." 

The  Chief  stood  upright  and  looked  at  the  Superin 
tendent,  who  looked  at  him,  and  both  shook  their  heads. 
Then  they  asked  what  the  visiting  doctor  had  said,  and 
what  directions  he  had  given  about  Marcello's  treat 
ment. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  he,"  said  the  Chief  of  Police  when 
they  were  closeted  in  the  Superintendent's  office,  five 
minutes  later.  "  I  have  studied  his  photograph  every 
day  for  nearly  three  months.  Look  at  it." 

He  produced  a  good-sized  photograph  of  Marcello 
which  had  been  taken  about  a  year  earlier,  but  was  the 


124  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

most  recent.  The  Superintendent  looked  at  it  criti 
cally,  and  said  it  was  not  much  like  the  patient.  The 
official  objected  that  a  man  who  was  half  dead  of  fever 
and  hud  lain  starving  for  weeks,  heaven  only  knew 
where,  could  hardly  be  quite  himself  in  appearance. 
The  Superintendent  pointed  out  that  this  was  precisely 
the  difficulty ;  the  photograph  was  not  like  the  sick 
man.  Hut  the  Chief  politely  insisted  that  it  was. 
They  differed  altogether  on  this  point,  but  quarrelled 
over  it  in  the  most  urbane  manner  possible. 

The  Superintendent  suggested  that  it  would  be  easy 
to  identify  Marcello  Consalvi,  by  bringing  people  who 
knew  him  to  his  bedside,  servants  and  others.  The 
official  answered  that  he  should  prefer  to  be  sure  of 
everything  before  calling  in  any  one  else.  The  patient 
had  evidently  lost  his  memory  by  some  accident,  and 
if  he  could  not  recall  his  own  name  it  was  not  likely 
that  he  could  recognise  a  face.  Servants  would  swear 
that  it  was  he,  or  not  he,  just  as  their  interest  sug 
gested.  Most  of  the  people  of  his  own  class  who  knew 
him  were  out  of  town  at  the  present  season  ;  and 
besides,  the  upper  classes  were  not,  in  the  Chief's 
opinion,  a  whit  more  intelligent  or  trustworthy  than 
those  that  served  them.  The  world,  said  the  Chief, 
was  an  exceedingly  bad  place.  That  this  was  true, 
the  Superintendent  could  not  doubt,  and  he  admitted 
the  fact ;  but  he  was  not  sure  how  the  Chief  was  apply 
ing  the  statement  of  it  in  his  own  reasoning.  Perhaps 
he  thought  that  some  persons  might  have  an  interest 
in  recognising  Marcello. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  125 

"  In  the  meantime,"  said  the  Chief,  rising  to  go 
away,  "  we  will  put  him  in  a  private  room,  where  we 
shall  not  be  watched  by  everybody  when  we  come  to 
see  him.  I  have  funds  from  Corbario  to  pay  any  pos 
sible  expenses  in  the  case." 

"Who  is  that  man?"  asked  the  Superintendent. 
"  There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  him  in  the 
papers  since  his  stepson  was  lost.  What  was  he  before 
he  married  the  rich  widow  ?  " 

The  Chief  of  Police  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  lit  a 
cigarette  preparatory  to  going  away,  smoothed  his  hat 
on  his  arm,  and  flicked  a  tiny  speck  of  dust  from  the 
lapel  of  his  well-made  coat.  Then  he  smiled  pleasantly 
and  gave  his  answer. 

"  I  suppose  that  before  he  married  Consalvi's  widow 
he  was  a  gentleman  of  small  means,  like  many  others. 
Why  should  you  think  that  he  was  ever  anything  else  ?  " 

To  this  direct  question  the  Superintendent  had  no 
answer  ready,  nor,  in  fact,  had  the  man  who  asked  it, 
though  he  had  looked  so  very  wise.  Then  they 
glanced  at  each  other  and  both  laughed  a  little,  and 
they  parted. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Marcello  was  carried  to  an  airy 
room  with  green  blinds,  and  was  made  even  more 
comfortable  than  he  had  been  before.  He  slept,  and 
awoke,  and  ate  and  slept  again.  Twice  during  the 
afternoon  people  were  brought  to  see  him.  They  were 
servants  from  the  villa  on  the  Janiculum,  but  he 
looked  at  them  dully  and  said  that  he  could  not 
remember  them. 


126  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  We  do  not  think  it  is  he,"  they  said,  when  ques 
tioned.  "  Why  does  he  not  know  us,  if  it  is  he  ?  We 
are  old  servants  in  the  house.  We  carried  the  young 
gentleman  in  our  arms  when  he  was  small.  But  this 
youth  does  not  know  us,  nor  our  names.  It  is 
not  he." 

They  were  dismissed,  and  afterwards  they  met  and 
talked  up  at  the  villa. 

"  The  master  has  been  sent  for  by  telegraph,"  they 
said  one  to  another.  "  We  shall  do  what  he  says.  If 
he  tells  us  that  it  is  the  young  gentleman  we  will  also 
say  that  it  is  ;  but  if  he  says  it  is  not  he,  we  will  also 
deny  it.  This  is  the  only  way." 

Having  decided  upon  this  diplomatic  course  as  the 
one  most  likely  to  prove  advantageous  to  them,  they 
went  back  to  their  several  occupations  and  amusements. 
But  at  the  very  first  they  said  what  they  really 
thought  ;  none  of  them  really  believed  the  sick  youth 
at  the  hospital  to  be  Marcello.  An  illness  of  nearly 
seven  weeks  and  a  long  course  of  privation  can  make  a 
terrible  difference  in  the  looks  of  a  very  young  person, 
and  when  the  memory  is  gone,  too,  the  chances  of  his 
being  recognised  are  slight. 

But  the  Chief  of  Police  was  not  disturbed  in  his 
belief,  and  after  he  had  smoked  several  cigarettes  very 
thoughtfully  in  his  private  office,  he  wrote  a  telegram 
to  Corbario,  advising  him  to  come  back  to  Rome  at  once. 
He  was  surprised  to  receive  an  answer  from  Folco  late 
that  night,  inquiring  why  he  was  wanted.  To  this  he 
replied  in  a  second  telegram  of  more  length,  which 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  127' 

explained  matters  clearly.  The  next  morning  Corbario 
telegraphed  that  he  was  starting. 

The  visiting  physician  came  early  and  examined 
Marcello's  head  with  the  greatest  minuteness.  After 
much  trouble  he  found  what  he  was  looking  for  —  a 
very  slight  depression  in  the  skull.  There  was  no  sign 
of  a  wound  that  had  healed,  and  it  was  clear  that  the 
injury  must  have  been  either  the  result  of  a  fall,  in 
which  case  the  scalp  had  been  protected  by  a  stiff  hat, 
or  else  of  a  blow  dealt  with  something  like  a  sandbag, 
which  had  fractured  the  bone  without  leaving  any  mark 
beyond  a  bruise,  now  no  longer  visible. 

"  It  is  my  opinion,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  as  soon  as 
the  pressure  is  removed  the  man's  memory  will  come 
back  exactly  as  it  was  before.  We  will  operate  next 
week,  when  he  has  gained  a  little  more  strength. 
Feed  him  and  give  him  plenty  of  air,  for  he  is  very 
weak." 

So  he  went  away  for  the  day.  But  presently  Regina 
came  and  demanded  admittance  according  to  the  prom 
ise  she  had  received,  and  she  was  immediately  brought 
to  the  Superintendent's  office,  for  he  had  given  very 
clear  instructions  to  this  effect  in  case  the  girl  came 
again.  He  had  not  told  the  Chief  of  Police  about  her, 
for  he  thought  it  would  be  amusing  to  do  a  little  detec 
tive  work  on  his  own  account,  and  he  anticipated  the 
triumph  of  finding  out  Marcello's  story  alone,  and  of 
then  laying  the  facts  before  the  authorities,  just  to  show 
what  ordinary  common  sense  could  do  without  the  in 
tervention  of  the  law. 


128  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

Regina  was  ushered  into  the  high  cool  room  where 
the  Superintendent  sat  alone,  and  the  heavy  door  closed 
behind  her.  He  was  a  large  man  with  close-cropped 
hair  and  a  short  brown  beard,  and  he  had  kind  brown 
eyes.  Regina  came  forward  a  few  steps  and  then  stood 
still, looking  at  him,  and  waiting  for  him  to  speak.  1  It- 
was  astonished  at  her  beauty,  and  at  once  decided  that 
she  had  a  romantic  attachment  for  Marcello,  and  prob 
ably  knew  all  about  him.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  pointed  to  a  seat  near  him. 

"  Pray  sit  down,"  he  said.  "  I  wish  to  have  a  little 
talk  with  you  before  you  go  upstairs  to  see  Marcello." 

"  How  is  he  ? "  asked  Regina,  eagerly.  "  Is  he 
worse  ?  " 

u  He  is  much  better.  But  sit  down,  if  you  please. 
You  shall  stay  with  him  as  long  as  you  like,  or  as  long 
as  it  is  good  for  him.  You  may  come  every  day  if  you 
wish  it." 

"Every  day?"  cried  Regina  in  delight.  "They 
told  me  that  I  could  only  come  on  Sunday." 

"  Yes.  That  is  the  rule,  my  dear  child.  But  I  can 
give  you  permission  to  come  every  day,  and  as  the  poor 
young  man  seems  to  have  no  friends,  it  is  very  fortunate 
for  him  that  you  can  be  with  him.  You  will  cheer 
him  and  help  him  to  get  well." 

u  Thank  you,  thank  you  I  "  answered  the  girl  fer 
vently,  as  she  sat  down. 

A  great  lady  of  Rome  had  been  to  see  the  Superin 
tendent  about  a  patient  on  the  previous  afternoon  ;  he 
did  not  remember  that  she  moved  with  more  dignity 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND  129 

than  this  peasant  girl,  or  with  nearly  as  much  grace. 
Regina  swept  the  folds  of  her  short  coarse  skirt  forward 
and  sideways  a  little,  so  that  they  hid  her  brown  wool 
len  ankles  as  she  took  her  seat,  and  with  the  other  hand 
she  threw  back  the  end  of  the  kerchief  from  her  face. 

44  You  do  not  mind  telling  me  your  name  ?  "  said  the 
Superintendent  in  a  questioning  tone. 

"  Spalletta  Regina,"  answered  the  girl  promptly,  put 
ting  her  family  name  first,  according  to  Italian  custom. 
"  I  am  of  Rocca  di  Papa." 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  remember  that.  And  you  say 
that  you  know  this  poor  young  man.  Now,  what  is 
his  name,  if  you  please?  He  does  not  seem  able  to 
remember  anything  about  himself." 

"  I  have  always  called  him  Marcello,"  answered 
Regina. 

"  Indeed  ?  You  call  him  Marcello  ?  Yes,  yes. 
Thank  you.  But,  you  know,  we  like  to  write  down 
the  full  name  of  each  patient  in  our  books.  Marcello, 
and  then  ?  What  else  ?  " 

By  this  time  Regina  felt  quite  at  her  ease  with  the 
pleasant-spoken  gentleman,  but  in  a  flash  it  occurred  to 
her  that  he  would  think  it  very  strange  if  she  could  not 
answer  such  a  simple  question  about  a  young  man  she 
professed  to  know  very  well. 

44  His  name  is  Botti,"  she  said,  with  no  apparent  hesi 
tation,  and  giving  the  first  name  that  occurred  to  her. 

44  Thank  you.  I  shall  enter  him  in  the  books  as 
'Botti  Marcello.'" 

44  Yes.     That  is  the  name."     She  watched  the  Super- 


130  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

intendent's  pen,  though  she  could  not  read  writing  very 
well. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  as  he  stuck  the  pen  into  a 
little  pot  of  small-shot  before  him,  and  then  looked  at 
his  watch.  "  The  nurse  is  probably  just  making  him 
comfortable  after  the  doctor's  morning  visit,  so  you  had 
better  wait  five  minutes,  if  you  do  not  mind.  Besides, 
it  will  help  us  a  good  deal  if  you  will  tell  me  something 
about  his  illness.  I  suppose  you  have  taken  care  of 
him." 

"  As  well  as  I  could,"  Regina  answered. 

"Where?  At  Rocca  di  Papa?  The  air  is  good 
there." 

"  No,  it  was  not  in  the  village."  The  girl  hesitated 
a  moment,  quickly  making  up  her  mind  how  much  of 
the  truth  to  tell.  "  You  see,"  she  continued  presently, 
44 1  was  only  the  servant  girl  there,  and  I  saw  that  the 
people  meant  to  let  him  die,  because  he  was  a  burden 
on  them.  So  I  wrapped  him  in  a  blanket  and  carried 
him  downstairs  in  the  night." 

"You  carried  him  down?"  The  Superintendent 
look  at  her  in  admiration. 

44  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Regina  quietly.  "  I  could 
carry  you  up  and  down  stairs  easily.  Do  you  wish 
to  see?" 

The  Superintendent  laughed,  for  she  actually  made 
a  movement  as  if  she  were  going  to  leave  her  seat  and 
pick  him  up. 

44  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I  quite  believe  you. 
What  a  nurse  you  would  make  I  You  say  that  you 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  181 

carried  him  down  in  the  night  —  and  then  ?  What  did 
you  do  ?  " 

"I  laid  him  on  the  tail  of  a  cart.  The  carter  was 
asleep.  I  walked  behind  to  the  gate,  for  I  was  sure 
that  when  he  was  found  he  would  be  brought  here,  and 
that  he  would  have  care,  and  would  get  well." 

"  Was  it  far  to  walk  ?  "  inquired  the  Superintendent, 
delighted  with  the  result  of  his  efforts  as  a  detective. 
"  You  must  have  been  very  tired  !  " 

"  What  is  it  to  walk  all  night,  if  one  carries  no  load 
on  one's  head  ?  "  asked  Regina  with  some  scorn.  "  I 
walk  as  I  breathe.'* 

"  You  walked  all  night,  then  ?  That  was  Friday 
night.  I  do  not  wish  to  keep  you,  my  dear  child,  but 
if  you  would  tell  me  how  long  Botti  has  been  ill  —  " 
he  waited. 

"This  is  the  forty-ninth  day,"  Regina  answered  at 
once. 

"  Dear  me  !     Poor  boy  I     That  is  a  long  time !  " 

"  I  stole  eggs  and  wine  to  keep  him  alive,"  the  girl 
explained.  "  They  tried  to  make  me  give  him  white 
beans  and  oil.  They  wanted  him  to  die,  because  he 
was  an  expense  to  them." 

"  Who  were  those  people  ?  "  asked  the  Superintend 
ent,  putting  the  question  suddenly. 

But  Regina  had  gained  time  to  prepare  her  story. 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  who  they  are  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  They  did  no  harm,  after  all,  and  they  let  him  lie  in 
their  house.  At  first  they  hoped  he  would  get  well, 
but  you  know  how  it  is  in  the  country.  When  sick 


132  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

people  linger  on,  every  one  wishes  them  to  die,  because 
they  are  in  the  way,  and  cost  money.  That  is  how 
it  is." 

44  But  you  wished  him  to  live,"  said  the  Superintend 
ent  in  an  encouraging  tone. 

Regina  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  smiled,  without 
the  slightest  affectation  or  shyness. 

44  What  could  I  do  ?  "  she  asked.  44  A  passion  for 
him  had  taken  me,  the  first  time  that  I  saw  him.  So 
I  stole  for  him,  and  sat  up  with  him,  and  did  what  was 
possible,  lie  lay  in  an  attic  with  only  one  blanket, 
and  my  heart  spoke.  What  could  I  do  ?  If  he  had 
died  I  should  have  thrown  myself  into  the  water  below 
the  mill." 

Now  there  had  been  no  mill  within  many  miles  of 
the  inn  on  the  Frascati  road,  in  which  there  could  be 
water  in  summer.  Regina  was  perfectly  sincere  in 
describing  her  love  for  Marcello,  but  as  she  was  a 
clever  woman  she  knew  that  it  was  precisely  when  she 
was  speaking  with  the  greatest  sincerity  about  one 
thing,  that  she  could  most  easily  throw  a  man  off  the 
scent  with  regard  to  another.  The  Superintendent 
mentally  noted  the  allusion  to  the  mill  for  future  use  ; 
it  had  created  an  image  in  his  mind  ;  it  meant  that 
the  place  where  Marcello  had  lain  ill  had  been  in  the 
hills  and  probably  near  Tivoli,  where  there  is  much 
water  and  mills  are  plentiful. 

44 1  suppose  he  was  a  poor  relation  of  the  people,"  said 
the  Superintendent  thoughtfully,  after  a  little  pause. 
"That  is  why  they  wished  to  get  rid  of  him." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  133 

Regina  made  a  gesture  of  indifferent  assent,  and 
told  something  like  the  truth. 

"  He  had  not  been  there  since  I  had  been  servant 
to  them,"  she  answered.  "  It  must  have  been  a  long 
time  since  they  had  seen  him.  We  found  him  early 
in  the  morning,  lying  unconscious  against  the  door  of 
the  house,  and  we  took  him  in.  That  is  the  whole 
story.  Why  should  I  tell  you  who  the  people  are  ? 
I  have  eaten  their  bread,  I  have  left  them,  I  wish  them 
no  harm.  They  knew  their  business." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  certainly.  I  suppose  I  may 
say  that  Marcello  Botti  comes  from  Rocca  di  Papa  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Regina  readily.  "  You  may 
say  that,  if  you  like." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  she  did  not  care  what  he  wrote 
in  his  big  book,  and  he  might  as  well  write  one  name 
as  another,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned. 

"  But  I  never  saw  him  there,"  she  added  by  an  after 
thought.  "  There  are  many  people  of  that  name  in 
our  village,  but  I  never  saw  him.  Perhaps  you  had 
better  say  that  he  came  from  Albano." 

"  Why  from  Albano  ? "  asked  the  Superintendent, 
surprised. 

"  It  is  a  bigger  place,"  explained  Regina  quite  natu 
rally. 

"  Then  I  might  as  well  write  4  Rome '  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Why  not  ?  If  you  must  put  down  the  name 
of  a  town  in  the  book,  you  had  better  write  a  big  one. 
You  will  be  less  likely  to  be  found  out  if  you  have 
made  a  mistake." 


134  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

" 1  see,"  said  the  Superintendent,  smiling.  "  I  am 
much  obliged  for  your  advice.  And  now,  if  you  will 
come  with  me,  you  shall  see  Botti.  He  has  a  room  by 
himself  and  is  very  well  cared  for." 

The  orderlies  and  nurses  who  came  and  went  about 
the  hospital  glanced  with  a  little  discreet  surprise  at 
the  handsome  peasant  girl  who  followed  the  Superin 
tendent,  but  she  paid  no  attention  to  them  and  looked 
straight  before  her,  at  the  back  of  his  head  ;  for  her 
heart  was  beating  faster  than  if  she  had  run  a  mile 
uphill. 

Marcello  put  out  his  arms  when  he  saw  her  enter, 
and  returning  life  sent  a  faint  colour  to  his  emaciated 
cheeks. 

"  Regina —  at  last!"  he  cried  in  a  stronger  and 
clearer  tone  than  she  had  ever  heard  him  use. 

A  splendid  blush  of  pleasure  glowed  in  her  own 
face  as  she  ran  forward  and  leaned  over  him,  smooth 
ing  the  smooth  pillow  unconsciously,  and  looking  down 
into  his  eyes. 

The  Superintendent  observed  that  Marcello  certainly 
had  no  difficulty  in  recalling  the  girl's  name,  whatever 
might  have  become  of  his  own  during  his  illness. 
What  Regina  answered  was  not  audible,  but  she  kissed 
Marcello's  eyes,  and  then  stood  upright  beside  the 
bed,  and  laughed  a  little. 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked.  "It  is  a  passion! 
When  I  see  him,  I  see  nothing  else.  And  then,  I 
saved  his  life.  Are  you  glad  that  Regina  saved  your 
life?"  She  bent  down  again,  and  her  gentle  hand 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  135 

played  with  Marcello's  waving  fair  hair.  "What 
should  you  have  done  without  Regina?" 

"  I  should  have  died,"  Marcello  answered  happily. 

With  much  more  strength  than  she  had  been  used 
to  find  in  him,  he  threw  his  arms  round  her  neck  and 
drew  her  face  down  to  his. 

The  Superintendent  spoke  to  the  nurse  in  a  low 
tone,  by  the  door,  and  both  went  out,  leaving  the  two 
together.  He  was  a  sensible  man,  and  a  kind-hearted 
one  ;  and  though  he  was  no  doctor,  he  guessed  that 
the  peasant  girl's  glorious  vitality  would  do  as  much 
for  the  sick  man  as  any  medicine. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

CORBABIO  reached  Rome  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
footman  who  stood  waiting  for  him  on  the  platform 
was  struck  by  the  change  in  his  appearance.  His  eyes 
were  hollow  and  bright,  his  cheeks  were  sunken,  his 
lips  looked  dry  ;  moreover,  he  moved  a  little  nervously 
and  his  foot  slipped  as  he  got  out  of  the  carriage,  so 
that  he  nearly  fell.  In  the  crowd,  the  footman  asked 
his  valet  questions.  Was  he  ill  ?  What  had  happened 
to  him  ?  Was  he  consuming  himself  with  grief  ?  No, 
the  valet  thought  not.  He  had  been  much  better  in 
Paris  and  had  seen  some  old  friends  there.  What 
harm  was  there  in  that?  A  bereaved  man  needed 
diversion.  The  change  had  come  suddenly,  when  he 
had  decided  to  return  to  Rome,  and  he  had  eaten 
nothing  for  thirty-six  hours.  The  valet  asked  if  the 
youth  at  the  hospital,  of  whom  Corbario  had  told  him, 
were  really  Marcello.  The  footman  answered  that 
none  of  the  servants  thought  so,  after  they  had  all 
been  taken  to  see  him. 

Having  exchanged  these  confidences  in  the  half- 
dumb  language  which  servants  command,  they  reached 
the  gate.  The  footman  rushed  out  to  call  the  carriage, 
the  valet  delivered  the  tickets  and  followed  the  foot 
man  more  slowly,  carrying  Corbario's  bag  and  coat, 

136 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  137 

and  Corbario  lighted  a  cigar  and  followed  his  man  at 
a  leisurely  pace,  absorbed  in  thought. 

Until  the  moment  of  passing  the  gate  he  had  meant 
to  drive  directly  to  the  hospital,  which  is  at  some  dis 
tance  from  the  station  in  a  direction  almost  opposite 
to  that  of  the  Janiculum.  He  could  have  driven  there 
in  ten  minutes,  whereas  he  must  lose  more  than  an 
hour  by  going  home  first  and  then  coming  back.  But 
his  courage  failed  him,  he  felt  faint  and  sick,  and  quite 
unable  to  bear  any  great  emotion  until  he  had  rested 
and  refreshed  himself  a  little.  A  long  railway  journey 
stupefies  some  men,  but  makes  others  nervous  and 
inclined  to  exaggerate  danger  or  trouble.  During  the 
last  twelve  hours  Corbario  had  been  forcing  himself 
to  decide  that  he  would  go  to  the  hospital  and  know 
the  worst  at  once,  but  now  that  the  moment  was  come 
he  could  not  do  it. 

He  was  walking  slowly  through  the  outer  hall  of 
the  station  when  a  large  man  came  up  with  him  and 
greeted  him  quietly.  It  was  Professor  Kalmon.  Cor 
bario  started  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  They  had  not 
met  since  Kalmon  had  been  at  the  cottage. 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  that  you  were  in  the  train,' 
the  Professor  said. 

"  So  do  I,"  answered  Corbario  without  enthusiasm. 
"  Not  that  I  am  very  good  company,"  he  added,  look 
ing  sideways  at  the  other's  face  and  meeting  a  scruti 
nising  glance. 

"  You  look  ill,"  Kalmon  replied.     "  I  don't  wonder." 

"  I   sometimes   wish    I    had   one  of  those  tablets  of 


138  WHOSOEVKH    SHALL   OFFEND 

yours  that  send  people  to  sleep  for  ever,"  said  Corbario, 
making  a  great  effort  to  speak  steadily. 

But  his  voice  shook,  and  a  sudden  terror  seized  him, 
the  abject  fright  that  takes  hold  of  a  man  who  has 
been  accustomed  to  do  something  very  dangerous  and 
who  suddenly  finds  that  his  nerve  is  gone  at  the  very 
moment  of  doing  it  again. 

The  cold  sweat  stood  on  Folco's  forehead  under  his 
hat  ;  he  stopped  where  he  was  and  tried  to  draw  a  long 
breath,  but  something  choked  him.  Kalmon's  voice 
seemed  to  reach  him  from  a  great  distance.  Then  he 
felt  the  Professor's  strong  arm  under  his  own,  support 
ing  him  and  making  him  move  forward. 

"The  weather  is  hot,"  Kalraon  said,  "and  you  are 
ill  and  tired.  Come  outside." 

"It  is  nothing,"  Corbario  tried  to  say.  " I  was 
dizzy  for  a  moment." 

Kalinon  and  the  footman  helped  him  into  his  low 
carriage,  and  raised  the  hood,  for  the  afternoon  sun 
was  still  very  hot. 

"  Shall  I  go  home  with  you  ?  "  Kalmon  asked. 

"  No,  no  1 "  cried  Corbario  nervously.  "  You  are 
very  kind.  I  am  quite  well  now.  Good-bye.  Home  ! " 
he  added  to  the  footman,  as  he  settled  himself  back 
under  the  hood,  quite  out  of  sight. 

The  Professor  stood  still  in  the  glaring  heat,  looking 
after  the  carriage,  his  travelling-bag  in  his  hand,  while 
the  crowd  poured  out  of  the  station,  making  for  the 
cabs  and  omnibuses  that  were  drawn  up  in  rows,  or 
crossing  the  burning  pavement  on  foot  to  take  the  tram. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  139 

When  the  carriage  was  out  of  sight,  Kalmon  looked 
up  at  the  hot  sky  and  down  at  the  flagstones,  and 
then  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do. 

"To  the  hospital  of  San  Giovanni,"  he  said,  as  he 
got  into  a  cab. 

He  seemed  to  be  well  informed,  for  he  inquired  at 
the  door  about  a  certain  Marcello  Botti,  who  was  in  a 
private  room ;  and  when  he  gave  his  name  he  was  ad 
mitted  without  even  asking  permission  of  the  Superin 
tendent,  and  was  at  once  led  upstairs. 

"  Are  you  a  friend  of  his,  sir  ?  "  asked  Regina,  when 
he  had  looked  a  long  time  at  the  patient,  who  did  not 
recognise  him  in  the  least. 

"  Are  you  ?  "  Kalmon  looked  at  her  quietly  across 
the  bed. 

"  You  see,"  she  answered.  "  If  I  were  not,  why 
should  I  be  here?" 

"  She  has  saved  my  life,"  said  Marcello  suddenly,  and 
he  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  held  it  fast.  "  As  soon 
as  I  am  quite  well  we  shall  be  married." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  boy,  certainly,"  replied  Kalmon, 
as  if  it  were  quite  a  matter  of  course.  "  You  must 
make  haste  and  get  well  as  soon  as  possible." 

He  glanced  at  Regina's  face,  and  as  her  eyes  met  his 
she  shook  her  head  almost  imperceptibly,  and  smiled. 
Kalmon  was  not  quite  sure  what  she  meant.  He  made 
a  sign  to  her  to  go  with  him  to  the  window,  which  was 
at  some  distance  from  the  bed. 

"  It  may  be  long  before  he  is  well,"  he  whispered. 
"There  must  be  an  operation." 


140  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

She  nodded,  for  she  knew  that. 

"  And  do  you  expect  to  marry  him  when  he  is 
recovered  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  and  laughed,  glancing  at  Marcello. 

44  He  is  a  gentleman,"  she  whispered,  close  to  Kal- 
raon's  ear.  44  How  could  he  marry  me  ?  " 

44  You  love  him,"  Kalmon  answered. 

Again  she  nodded,  and  laughed  too. 

44 What  would  you  do  for  him?"  asked  Kalmon, 
looking  at  her  keenly. 

44  Die  for  him  !  " 

She  meant  it,  and  he  saw  that  she  did.  Her  eyes 
shone  as  she  spoke,  and  then  the  lids  drooped  a  little 
and  she  looked  at  him  almost  fiercely.  He  turned 
from  her  and  his  fingers  softly  tapped  the  marble 
window-sill.  He  was  asking  himself  whether  he  could 
swear  to  Marcello's  identity,  in  case  he  should  be 
called  upon  to  give  evidence.  On  what  could  he  base 
his  certainty?  Was  he  himself  certain,  or  was  he 
merely  moved  by  the  strong  resemblance  he  saw,  in 
spite  of  long  illness  and  consequent  emaciation  ?  Was 
the  visiting  surgeon  right  in  believing  that  the  little 
depression  in  the  skull  had  caused  a  suspension  of 
memory  ?  Such  things  happened,  no  doubt,  but  it  also 
happened  that  doctors  were  mistaken  and  that  nothing 
came  of  such  operations.  Who  could  prove  the  truth  ? 
The  boy  and  girl  might  have  a  secret  to  keep ;  she 
might  have  arranged  to  get  him  into  the  hospital 
because  it  was  his  only  chance,  but  the  rest  of  the 
story,  such  as  it  was,  might  be  a  pure  invention ;  uud 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  141 

when  Marcello  was  discharged  cured,  they  would  dis 
appear  together.  There  was  the  coincidence  of  the 
baptismal  name,  but  men  of  science  know  how  decep 
tive  coincidences  can  be.  Besides,  the  girl  was  very 
intelligent.  She  might  easily  have  heard  about  the 
real  Marcello's  disappearance,  and  she  was  clever 
enough  to  have  given  her  lover  the  name  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  be  taken  for  the  lost  boy  at  least  long 
enough  to  ensure  him  a  great  deal  more  comfort  and 
consideration  in  the  hospital  than  he  otherwise  would 
have  got ;  she  was  clever  enough  to  have  seen  that  it 
would  be  a  mistake  to  say  outright  that  he  was  Mar- 
cello  Consalvi,  if  she  was  practising  a  deception.  Kal- 
mon  did  not  know  what  to  think,  and  he  wished  the 
operation  could  be  performed  before  Corbario  came; 
but  that  was  impossible. 

Regina  stood  beside  him,  waiting  for  him  to  speak 
again. 

"  Do  you  need  money  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly,  with  a 
sharp  look  at  her  face. 

"  No,  thank  you,  sir,"  she  answered.  "  He  has  every 
thing  here." 

"  But  for  yourself  ?  "     He  kept  his  eyes  on  her. 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  I  want  nothing."  Her  look  met 
his  almost  coldly  as  she  spoke. 

"  But  when  he  is  well  again,  how  shall  you  live  ?  " 

"  I  shall  work  for  him,  if  it  turns  out  that  he  has  no 
friends.  We  shall  soon  know,  for  his  memory  will 
come  back  after  the  operation.  The  doctors  say  so. 
They  know." 


142  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  And  if  he  has  friends  after  all  ?  If  he  is  really  the 
man  I  think  he  is,  what  then  '.'  What  will  become  of 
you  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  am  his.  He  can  do  what  he 
likes  with  me." 

The  Professor  did  not  remember  to  have  met  any  one 
who  took  quite  such  an  elementary  view  of  life,  but  he 
could  not  help  feeling  a  sort  of  sympathy  for  the  girl's 
total  indifference  to  consequences. 

"  I  shall  come  to  see  him  again,"  he  said  presently, 
turning  back  towards  the  bed  and  approaching  Mar- 
cello.  "  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  never  saw  me 
before  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  the  young  man's  hand. 

"  I  don't  remember,"  answered  Marcello,  wearily. 
"They  all  want  me  to  remember,"  he  added  almost 
peevishly.  "I  would  if  I  could,  if  it  were  only  to 
please  them  I " 

Kalmon  went  away,  for  he  saw  that  his  presence 
tired  the  patient.  When  he  was  gone  Regina  sat  down 
beside  the  bed  and  stroked  Marcello's  hand,  and  talked 
soothingly  t<»  him,  promising  that  no  one  should  tease 
him  to  remember  things.  By  and  by,  as  she  sat,  she 
laid  her  head  on  the  pillow  beside  him,  and  her  sweet 
breath  fanned  his  face,  while  a  strange  light  played  in 
her  half -closed  eyes. 

"  Heart  of  my  heart,"  she  sighed  happily.  "  Love  of 
my  soul  !  Do  you  know  that  I  am  all  yours,  soul  and 
body,  and  earrings  too  ?"  And  she  laughed  low. 

"You  are  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world," 
Mareello  answered.  "  I  love  youl  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  143 

She  laughed  again,  and  kissed  him. 

"You  love  me  better  than  Aurora,"  she  said 
suddenly. 

"  Aurora  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  you  have  forgotten  her.  But  you  will  not 
forget  Regina  now,  not  even  when  you  are  very,  very 
old,  and  your  golden  hair  is  all  grey.  You  will  never 
forget  Regina,  now  !  " 

"  Never  !  "  echoed  Marcello,  like  a  child.  "  Never, 
never,  never  !  " 

"Not  even  when  your  friends  try  to  take  me  away 
from  you,  love,  not  even  if  they  try  to  kill  me,  because 
they  want  you  to  marry  Aurora,  who  is  a  rich  girl,  all 
dressed  with  silk  and  covered  with  jewels,  like  the 
image  of  the  Madonna  at  Genazzano.  I  am  sure 
Aurora  has  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes  !  " 

"  I  don't  want  any  one  but  you,"  answered  Marcello, 
drawing  her  face  nearer. 

So  the  time  passed,  and  it  was  to  them  as  if  there 
were  no  time.  Then  the  door  opened  again,  and  a  very 
pale  man  in  deep  mourning  was  brought  in  by  the 
Superintendent  himself.  Regina  rose  and  drew  back  a 
little,  so  that  the  shadow  should  not  fall  across  Mar- 
cello's  face,  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  gentleman  in 
black. 

"  This  is  the  patient,"  said  the  Superintendent  in  a 
low  voice. 

Corbario  laid  his  hand  nervously  on  his  companion's 
arm,  and  stood  still  for  a  moment,  holding  his  breath 
and  leaning  forward  a  little,  his  gaze  riveted  on  Mar- 


144  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

cello's  face.  Regina  had  never  before  seen  a  man  trans 
fixed  with  fear. 

He  moved  a  step  towards  the  bed,  and  then  another, 
forcing  himself  to  go  on.  Then  Marcello  turned  his 
head  and  looked  at  him  vacantly.  Regina  heard  the 
long  breath  Corbario  drew,  and  saw  his  body  straighten, 
as  if  relieved  from  a  great  burden.  He  stood  beside 
the  bed,  and  put  out  his  hand  to  take  Marcello's. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  he  asked  ;  but  even  then  his 
voice  was  unsteady. 

Instead  of  answering,  Marcello  turned  away  to  Regina. 

"You  promised  that  they  should  not  tease  me  any 
more,"  he  said  querulously.  "  Make  them  go  away  ! 
I  want  to  sleep." 

Regina  came  to  his  side  at  once,  and  faced  the  two 
men  across  the  bed. 

"What  is  all  this  for?"  she  asked,  with  a  little 
indignation.  "You  know  that  he  cannot  remember 
you,  even  if  he  ever  saw  you  before.  Cannot  you 
leave  him  in  peace  ?  Come  back  after  the  operation. 
Then  he  will  remember  you,  if  you  really  know  him." 

-Who  is  this  girl?"  asked  Corbario  of  the 
Superintendent. 

"  She  took  care  of  him  when  he  had  the  fever,  and 
she  managed  to  get  him  here.  She  has  undoubtedly 
saved  his  life." 

At  the  words  a  beautiful  blush  coloured  Regina's 
cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  triumphant  light;  but 
at  the  same  words  Corbario's  still  face  darkened,  and 
as  if  it  had  been  a  mask  that  suddenly  became  trans- 


HE    MOVKD   A   STEP  TOWARDS   THE   BED,   AND  THEN   ANOTHER, 
FORCING  HIMSELF  TO   GO   ON." 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND  145 

parent,  the  girl  saw  another  face  through  it,  drawn  into 
an  expression  of  malignant  and  devilish  hatred. 

The  vision  only  lasted  a  moment,  and  the  impene 
trable  pale  features  were  there  once  more,  showing 
neither  hate  nor  fear,  nor  any  feeling  or  emotion  what 
ever.  Corbario  was  himself  again,  and  turned  quietly 
to  the  Superintendent. 

"  She  is  quite  right,"  he  said.  "  His  memory  is 
gone,  and  we  shall  only  disturb  him.  You  tell  me  that 
the  doctors  have  found  a  very  slight  depression  in  his 
head,  as  if  from  a  blow.  Do  you  think  —  but  it  will 
annoy  him  —  I  had  better  not." 

'"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  other,  as  he 
hesitated. 

"  It  is  such  a  strange  case  that  I  should  like  to  see 
just  where  it  is,  out  of  pure  curiosity." 

"  It  is  here,"  said  Regina,  answering,  and  setting  the 
tip  of  one  straight  finger  against  her  own  head  to  point 
out  the  place. 

"  Oh,  at  the  back,  on  the  right  side  ?  I  see  —  yes  — 
thank  you.  A  little  on  one  side,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Here,"  repeated  Regina,  turning  so  that  Corbario 
could  see  exactly  where  the  end  of  her  finger  touched 
her  hair. 

"  To  think  that  so  slight  an  injury  may  have  perma 
nently  affected  the  young  man's  memory  !  "  Corbario 
appeared  much  impressed.  "Well,"  he  continued, 
speaking  to  Regina,  "  if  we  ever  find  out  who  he  is,  his 
relations  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  quite  beyond  all 
payment." 


146  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  Do  you  think  I  want  to  be  paid  ?  "  asked  Regina, 
and  in  her  indignation  she  turned  away  and  walked  to 
the  window. 

But  Marcello  called  her  back. 

"  Please,  Regina  —  please  tell  them  to  go  away  1 "  he 
pleaded. 

Corbario  nodded  to  the  Superintendent,  and  they  left 
the  room. 

"  There  is  certainly  a  strong  resemblance,"  said  Folco, 
when  they  were  outside,  "but  it  really  cannot  be  my 
poor  Marcello.  I  was  almost  too  much  affected  by  the 
thought  of  seeing  him  again  to  control  myself  when  we 
first  entered,  but  when  I  came  near  I  felt  nothing.  It 
is  not  he,  I  am  sure.  I  loved  him  as  if  he  were  my 
own  son ;  I  brought  him  up ;  we  were  always  together. 
It  is  not  possible  that  I  should  be  mistaken." 

"  No,"  replied  the  Superintendent,  "  I  should  hardly 
think  it  possible.  Besides,  from  what  the  girl  has  told 
me,  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  lay  ill  near  Tivoli.  How 
is  it  possible  that  he  should  have  got  there,  all  the  way 
from  the  Roman  shore  ?  " 

"  And  with  a  fractured  skull !  It  is  absurd  I  "  Cor 
bario  was  glad  to  find  that  the  Superintendent  held 
such  a  strong  opinion.  "  It  is  not  Marcello.  The  nose 
is  not  the  same,  and  the  expression  of  the  mouth  is 
quite  different." 

He  said  these  things  with  conviction,  but  he  was  not 
deceived.  He  knew  that  Marcello  Consalvi  was  living 
and  that  he  had  seen  him,  risen  from  the  dead,  and 
apparently  likely  to  remain  among  the  living  for  some 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  147 

time.  The  first  awful  moment  of  anxiety  was  past,  it 
was  true,  and  Folco  was  able  to  think  more  connectedly 
than  he  had  since  he  had  received  the  telegram  recall 
ing  him  from  Paris ;  but  there  was  to  be  another.  The 
doctors  said  that  his  memory  would  return  —  what 
would  he  remember  ?  It  would  come  back,  beginning, 
most  probably,  at  the  very  moment  in  which  it  had 
been  interrupted.  For  one  instant  he  would  fancy 
that  he  saw  again  what  he  had  seen  then.  What  had 
he  seen  ?  That  was  the  question.  Had  he  seen  any 
thing  but  the  sand,  the  scrubby  bushes,  and  the  trees 
round  the  cottage  in  the  distance  ?  Had  he  heard  any 
thing  but  the  howling  of  the  southwest  gale  and  the 
thundering  of  the  big  surf  over  the  bar  and  up  the 
beach  ?  The  injury  was  at  the  back  of  his  head,  but 
it  was  a  little  on  one  side.  Had  he  been  in  the  act 
of  turning?  Had  he  turned  far  enough  to  see  before 
the  blow  had  extinguished  memory  ?  How  far  was 
the  sudden  going  out  of  thought  really  instantaneous  ? 
What  fraction  of  a  second  intervened  between  full  life 
and  what  was  so  like  death  ?  How  long  did  it  take  a 
man  to  look  round  quickly  ?  Much  less  than  a  second, 
surely  !  Without  effort  or  hurry  a  man  could  turn  his 
head  all  the  way  from  left  to  right,  so  as  to  look  over 
each  shoulder  alternately,  while  a  second  pendulum 
swung  once.  A  second  was  a  much  longer  time  than 
most  people  realised.  Instruments  made  for  scientific 
photography  could  be  made  to  expose  the  plate  not 
more  than  one-thousandth  of  a  second.  Corbario  knew 
that,  and  wondered  whether  a  man's  eye  could  receive 


148  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

any  impression  in  so  short  a  time.  He  shuddered  when 
he  thought  that  it  might  be  possible. 

The  question  was  to  be  answered  sooner  than  he 
expected.  The  doctors  had  reported  that  a  week  must 
pass  before  Marcello  would  be  strong  enough  to  undergo 
the  operation,  but  he  improved  so  quickly  after  he 
reached  the  hospital  that  it  seemed  useless  to  wait.  It 
was  not  considered  to  be  a  very  dangerous  operation, 
nor  one  which  weakened  the  patient  much. 

Regina  was  not  allowed  to  be  present,  and  when 
Marcello  had  been  wheeled  out  of  his  room,  already 
under  ether,  she  went  and  stood  before  the  window, 
pressing  down  her  clasped  hands  upon  the  marble  sill 
with  all  her  might,  and  resting  her  forehead  against 
the  green  slats  of  the  blind.  She  did  not  move  from 
this  position  while  the  nurse  made  Marcello's  bed  ready 
to  receive  him  on  his  return.  It  was  long  to  wait. 
The  great  clock  in  the  square  struck  eleven  some  time 
after  he  had  been  taken  away,  then  the  quarter,  then 
half-past. 

Regina  felt  the  blood  slowly  sinking  to  her  heart. 
She  would  have  given  anything  to  move  now,  but  she 
could  not  stir  hand  or  foot ;  she  was  cold,  yet  somehow 
she  could  not  even  shiver;  that  would  have  been  a 
relief;  any  motion,  any  shock,  any  violent  pain  would 
have  been  a  thousand  times  better  than  the  marble 
stillness  that  was  like  a  spell. 

Far  away  on  the  Janiculum  Folco  Corbario  sat  in 
his  splendid  library  alone,  with  strained  eyes,  waiting 
for  the  call  of  the  telephone  that  stood  on  the  polished 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  149 

table  at  his  elbow.  He,  too,  was  motionless,  and  longed 
for  release  as  he  had  never  thought  he  could  long  for 
anything.  A  still  unlighted  cigar  was  almost  bitten 
through  by  his  sharp  front  teeth;  every  faculty  was 
tense ;  and  yet  it  was  as  if  his  brain  had  stopped  think 
ing  at  the  point  where  expectation  had  begun.  He 
could  not  think  now,  he  could  only  suffer.  If  the 
operation  were  successful  there  would  be  more  suffer 
ing,  doubt  still  more  torturing,  suspense  more  agonising 
still. 

The  great  clock  over  the  stables  struck  eleven,  then 
the  quarter,  then  half -past.  The  familiar  chimes  floated 
in  through  the  open  windows. 

A  wild  hope  came  with  the  sound.  Marcello,  weak 
as  he  was,  had  died  under  ether,  and  that  was  the  end. 
Corbario  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  The  clock  struck 
the  third  quarter,  but  no  other  sound  broke  the  still 
ness  of  the  near  noon-tide.  Yes,  Marcello  must  be  dead. 

Suddenly,  in  the  silence,  came  the  sharp  buzz  of  the 
instrument.  He  leapt  in  his  seat  as  if  something  had 
struck  him  unawares,  and  then,  instantly  controlling 
himself,  he  grasped  the  receiver  and  held  it  to  his  ear. 

"  Signor  Corbario  ?  "  came  the  question. 

"Yes,  himself." 

"The  hospital.  The  operation  has  been  successful. 
Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Go  on." 

"  The  patient  has  come  to  himself.  He  remembers 
everything." 

"  Everything  !  "     Corbario's  voice  shook. 


150  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"He  is  Marcello  Consalvi.  He  asks  for  his  mother, 
and  for  you." 

"  How  —  in  what  way  does  he  ask  for  me  ?  Will  my 
presence  do  him  good  —  or  excite  him  ?  " 

The  moment  had  come,  and  Folco's  nerve  was  restored 
with  the  sense  of  danger.  His  face  grew  cold  and  ex 
pressionless  as  he  waited  for  the  answer. 

44  He  speaks  most  affectionately  of  you.  But  you 
had  better  not  come  until  this  afternoon,  and  then  you 
must  not  stay  long.  The  doctors  say  he  must  rest 
quietly." 

"  I  will  come  at  four  o'clock.    Thank  you.    Good-bye." 

"Good-bye." 

The  click  of  the  instrument,  as  Folco  hung  the 
receiver  on  the  hook,  and  it  was  over.  He  shut  his 
eyes  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  arms  hanging  by 
his  sides  as  if  there  were  no  strength  in  them,  and  his 
head  falling  forward  till  his  chin  rested  on  his  chest. 
He  remained  so  for  a  long  time  without  moving. 

But  in  the  room  at  the  hospital  Marcello  lay  in  bed 
with  his  head  bound  up,  his  cheek  on  the  pillow,  and 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Regina's  face,  as  she  knelt  beside  him 
and  fanned  him  slowly,  for  it  was  hot. 

"  Sleep,  heart  of  my  heart,"  she  said  softly.  "  Sleep 
and  rest ! " 

There  was  a  sort  of  peaceful  wonder  in  his  look  now. 
Nothing  vacant,  nothing  that  lacked  meaning  or  under 
standing.  But  he  did  not  answer  her,  he  only  gazed 
into  her  face,  and  gazed  and  gazed  till  his  eyelids 
drooped  and  he  fell  asleep  with  a  smile  on  his  lips. 


CHAPTER   IX 

Two  years  had  passed  since  Marcello  had  been 
brought  home  from  the  hospital,  very  feeble  still,  but 
himself  again  and  master  of  his  memory  and  thoughts. 

In  his  recollection,  however,  there  was  a  blank.  He 
had  left  Aurora  standing  in  the  gap,  where  the  storm 
swept  inland  from  the  sea  ;  then  the  light  had  gone 
out  suddenly,  in  something  violent  which  he  could  not 
understand,  and  after  that  he  could  remember  nothing 
except  that  he  had  wandered  in  lonely  places,  trying  to 
find  out  which  way  he  was  going,  and  terrified  by  the 
certainty  that  he  had  lost  all  sense  of  direction ;  so  he  had 
wandered  on  by  day  and  night,  as  in  a  dark  dream,  and 
had  at  last  fallen  asleep,  to  wake  in  the  wretched  garret 
of  the  inn  on  the  Frascati  road,  with  Regina  kneeling 
beside  him  and  moistening  his  lips  from  a  glass  of  water. 

He  remembered  that  and  other  things,  which  came 
back  to  him  uncertainly,  like  the  little  incidents  of  his 
early  childhood,  like  the  first  words  he  could  remember 
hearing  and  answering,  like  the  sensation  of  being  on 
his  mother's  knee  and  resting  his  head  upon  her 
shoulder,  like  the  smell  of  the  roses  and  the  bitter- 
orange  blossoms  in  the  villa,  like  the  first  sensation 
of  being  set  upon  a  pony's  back  in  San  Domenico, 
while  Corbario  held  him  up  in  the  saddle,  and  tried  to 


152  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

make  his  little  hands  hold  the  bridle.  The  inn  \vas 
quite  as  far  away  as  all  that,  and  but  for  Regina  lie 
might  have  forgotten  it  altogether. 

She  was  "  Consalvi's  Regina "  now ;  half  Rome 
called  her  that,  and  she  was  famous.  Naples  and 
Florence  and  Milan  had  heard  of  her  ;  she  had  been 
seen  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  even  in  Paris  and  London 
her  name  was  not  unknown  in  places  where  young  men 
congregate  to  discuss  the  wicked  world,  and  where 
young  women  meet  to  compare  husbands,  over  the 
secret  and  sacrificial  teapot  which  represents  virtue, 
or  the  less  sacred  bridge-table  which  represents  vice. 
Smart  young  dandies  who  had  never  exchanged  a  word 
with  her  spoke  of  her  familiarly  as  "  Regina  "  ;  smarter 
and  older  men,  who  knew  her  a  little,  talked  of  her  as 
"  the  Spalletta,"  not  without  a  certain  respect ;  their 
mothers  branded  her  as  "  that  creature,"  and  their 
wives,  who  envied  her,  called  her  "  Consalvi's  Regina." 

When  people  remonstrated  with  Folco  Corbario  for 
allowing  his  stepson  too  much  liberty,  he  shook  his 
head  gravely  and  answered  that  he  did  what  he  could 
to  keep  Marcello  in  the  right  way,  but  that  the  boy's 
intellect  had  been  shaken  by  the  terrible  accident,  and 
that  he  had  undoubtedly  developed  vicious  tendencies 
—  probably  atavistic,  Folco  added.  Why  did  Folco 
allow  him  to  have  so  much  money  ?  The  answer  was 
that  he  was  of  age  and  the  fortune  was  his.  But  why 
had  Folco  let  him  have  it  before  he  was  twenty-one, 
ever  since  he  was  found  and  brought  home  ?  He  had 
not  had  much,  was  the  reply  ;  at  least  it  had  not  been 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  153 

much  compared  with  the  whole  income  he  now  enjoyed  • 
one  could  not  bring  up  the  heir  of  a  great  estate  like  a 
pauper,  could  one  ?  So  the  questioners  desisted  from 
questioning,  but  they  said  among  themselves  that, 
although  Folco  had  been  an  admirable  husband  and 
stepfather  while  his  wife  had  lived,  he  had  not  shown 
as  much  good  sense  after  her  death  as  they  had  been 
led  to  expect.  Meanwhile,  no  one  had  any  right  to 
interfere,  and  Marcello  did  as  he  pleased. 

Children  instinctively  attach  themselves  to  whichever 
of  their  parents  gives  them  the  most  liberty.  It  is 
sheer  nonsense  to  deny  it.  Marcello  had  loved  his 
mother  dearly,  but  she  had  always  been  the  one 
to  hinder  him  from  doing  what  he  wished  to  do, 
because  she  had  been  excessively  anxious  about  his 
bodily  health,  and  over-desirous  of  bringing  him  up  to 
manhood  in  a  state  of  ideal  moral  perfection.  Folco, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  been  associated  with  all  the 
boy's  sports  and  pleasures,  and  had  always  encouraged 
him  to  amuse  himself,  giving  as  a  reason  that  there  was 
no  medicine  like  healthy  happiness  for  a  boy  of  delicate 
constitution.  Corbario,  like  Satan,  knew  the  uses  of 
truth,  which  are  numerous  and  not  all  good.  Though 
Marcello  would  not  have  acknowledged  it  to  himself, 
his  stepfather  had  been  nearer  to  him,  and  more  nec 
essary  to  him,  than  his  mother,  during  several  years  ; 
and  besides,  it  was  less  hard  to  bear  the  loss  of  which 
he  learned  when  he  recovered,  because  it  had  befallen 
him  during  that  dark  and  uncertain  period  of  his  ill 
ness  that  now  seemed  as  if  it  had  lasted  for  years,  and 


154  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

whereby  everything  that  had  been  before  it  belonged  to 
a  remote  past. 

Moreover,  there  was  Regina,  and  there  was  youth, 
and  there  was  liberty;  and  Corbario  was  at  hand, 
always  ready  to  encourage  and  satisfy  his  slightest 
whim,  on  the  plea  that  a  convalescent  must  be  hu 
moured  at  any  cost,  and  that  there  would  be  time 
enough  to  consider  what  should  be  done  with  Kegina 
after  Marcello  was  completely  recovered.  After  all, 
Corbario  told  him,  the  girl  had  saved  his  life,  and  it 
was  only  right  to  be  grateful,  and  she  should  be  amply 
rewarded  for  till  the  trouble  she  had  taken.  It  would 
have  been  sheer  cruelty  to  have  sent  her  away  to  the 
country ;  and  what  was  the  cost  of  a  quiet  lodging  for 
her  in  Trastevere,  and  of  a  few  decent  clothes,  and  of 
a  respectable  middle-aged  woman-servant  to  take  care  of 
her  ?  Nothing  at  all ;  only  a  few  francs,  and  Marcello 
was  so  rich  !  Jxr_;:n;'.  also,  was  so  very  unusually  well- 
behaved,  and  so  perfectly  docile,  so  long  as  she  was 
allowed  to  see  Marcello  every  day  !  She  did  not  care 
for  dress  at  all,  and  was  quite  contented  to  wear  black, 
with  just  a  touch  of  some  tender  colour.  Corbario 
made  it  all  very  easy,  and  saw  to  everything,  and  he 
seemed  to  know  just  how  such  things  were  arranged. 
He  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  little  house  that  had  a 
quiet  garden  with  an  entrance  on  another  street,  all  in 
very  good  condition  because  it  had  lately  been  used  by 
a  famous  foreign  painter  who  preferred  to  live  in 
Trastevere,  away  from  the  interruptions  and  distrac 
tions  of  the  growing  city ;  and  by  a  very  simple  trans- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  155 

action  the  house  became  the  property  of  the  minor, 
Marcello  Consalvi,  to  do  with  as  he  thought  fit.  This 
was  much  more  convenient  than  paying  rent  to  a  tire 
some  landlord  who  might  at  any  time  turn  his  tenant 
out.  Corbario  thought  of  everything.  Twice  a  week 
a  gardener  came,  early  in  the  morning,  and  soon  the 
garden  was  really  pretty  ;  and  the  respectable  woman- 
servant  watered  the  flowers  every  evening  just  before 
sunset.  There  was  a  comfortable  Calcutta  chair  for 
Marcello  in  a  shady  corner,  the  very  first  time  he  came 
there,  and  Regina  had  learned  how  to  make  tea  for 
him ;  for  the  respectable  woman-servant  knew  how  to 
do  all  sorts  of  things  belonging  to  civilised  life.  She 
was  so  intensely  respectable  and  quiet  that  Marcello 
was  almost  afraid  of  her,  until  it  occurred  to  him  that 
as  she  took  so  much  trouble,  he  ought  to  give  her  a 
present  of  money ;  and  when  he  had  done  this  twice, 
he  somehow  became  aware  that  she  was  his  devoted 
slave  —  middle-aged  and  excessively  respectable.  Folco 
was  really  a  very  good  judge  of  character,  Marcello 
thought,  since  he  could  at  once  pick  out  such  a  person 
from  the  great  horde  of  the  unemployed. 

Her  name  was  Settimia,  and  it  was  wonderful  to  see 
how  she  quietly  transformed  Regina  into  a  civilised 
creature,  who  must  attract  attention  by  her  beauty  and 
carriage,  but  who  might  have  belonged  to  a  middle- 
class  Roman  family  so  far  as  manners  and  dress  were 
concerned.  It  is  true  that  the  girl  possessed  by  nature 
the  innate  dignity  of  the  Roman  peasant,  with  such  a 
figure  and  such  grace  as  any  aristocrat  might  have 


1~>»J  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

envied,  and  that  she  spoke  with  the  Roman  accent 
which  almost  all  other  Italians  admire ;  but  though  her 
in  miners  had  a  certain  repose,  they  were  often  of  an 
extremely  unexpected  nature,  and  she  had  an  astonish 
ingly  simple  way  of  calling  things  by  their  names 
which  sometimes  disconcerted  Marcello  and  sometimes 
amused  him.  Settimia  civilised  her,  almost  without 
letting  her  know  it,  for  she  was  quick  to  learn,  like  all 
naturally  clever  people  who  have  had  no  education,  and 
she  was  imitative,  as  all  womanly  women  are  when  they 
are  obliged  to  adapt  themselves  quickly  to  new  sur 
roundings.  She  was  stimulated,  too,  by  the  wish  to 
appear  well  before  Marcello,  lest  he  should  ever  be 
ashamed  of  her.  That  was  all.  She  never  had  the 
least  illusion  about  herself,  nor  any  hope  of  raising 
herself  to  his  social  level.  She  was  far  too  much  the 
real  peasant  girl  for  that,  the  descendant  of  thirty  or 
more  generations  of  serfs,  the  offspring  of  men  and 
women  who  had  felt  that  they  belonged  body  and  soul 
to  the  feudal  lord  of  the  land  on  which  they  were  born, 
and  had  never  been  disturbed  by  tempting  dreams  of 
liberty,  equality,  fraternity,  and  the  violent  destruction 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

So  she  lived,  and  so  she  learned  many  things  of  Set 
timia,  and  looked  upon  herself  as  the  absolute  property 
of  the  man  she  loved  and  had  saved ;  and  she  was  per 
fectly  happy,  if  not  perfectly  good. 

"  When  I  am  of  age,"  Marcello  used  to  say,  "  I  shall 
buy  a  beautiful  little  palace  near  the  Tiber,  and  you 
shall  live  in  it." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  157 

"  Why  ?  "  she  always  asked.  "  Are  we  not  happy 
here  ?  Is  it  not  cool  in  summer,  and  sunny  in  winter  ? 
Have  we  not  all  we  want  ?  When  you  marry,  your 
wife  will  live  in  the  splendid  villa  on  the  Janiculum, 
and  when  you  are  tired  of  her,  you  will  come  and  see 
Regina  here.  I  hope  you  will  always  be  tired  of  her. 
Then  I  shall  be  happy." 

Marcello  would  laugh  a  little,  and  then  he  would 
look  grave  and  thoughtful,  for  he  had  not  forgotten 
Aurora,  and  sometimes  wondered  what  she  was  doing, 
as  a  young  man  does  who  is  losing  his  hold  upon 
himself,  and  on  the  things  in  which  he  has  always 
believed.  He  who  has  never  lived  through  such 
times  and  outlived  them,  knows  neither  the  world 
nor  himself. 

Marcello  wondered  whether  Aurora  would  ever  meet 
Regina  face  to  face,  and  what  would  happen  if  he  were 
called  upon  to  choose  between  the  two.  He  would 
choose  Regina,  he  said  to  himself,  when  he  was  going 
down  the  steep  way  from  the  villa  to  the  little  house, 
eager  for  her  touch,  her  voice,  her  breath,  and  feeling 
in  his  pocket  the  key  that  opened  the  garden  gate. 
But  when  the  hours  had  passed,  and  he  slowly  walked 
up  the  road  under  the  great  plane-trees,  in  the  cool  of 
the  late  evening,  glancing  at  the  distant  lights  of  Rome 
beyond  the  Tiber,  and  dimly  conscious  that  something 
was  still  unsatisfied,  then  he  hesitated  and  he  remem 
bered  his  boyish  love,  and  fancied  that  if  he  met 
Aurora  in  the  way  they  would  stand  still,  each  find 
ing  the  other  in  the  other's  eyes,  and  silently  kiss,  as 


158  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

they  had  kissed  long  ago.  Yet,  with  the  thought,  he 
felt  shame,  and  he  blushed,  alone  there  under  the  piano- 
trees. 

But  Aurora  had  never  come  back  to  Rome,  and  the 
small  apartment  that  overlooked  the  Forum  of  Trajan 
had  other  tenants.  It  was  strange  that  the  ConteHR 
and  her  daughter  should  not  have  returned,  and  some 
times  Mareello  felt  a  great  longing  to  see  them.  He 
said  -them  "to  himself  at  such  times,  but  he  knew 
what  he  meant. 

So  time  went  on.  Corbario  said  that  he  himself 
must  really  go  to  San  Domenico,  to  look  after  the  Cala- 
brian  property,  but  added  that  it  would  be  quite  useless 
for  Mareello  to  go  with  him.  Mareello  could  stay  in 
Rome  and  amuse  himself  as  he  pleased,  or  he  might 
make  a  little  journey  to  the  north,  to  Switzerland,  to 
the  Tyrol  —  there  were  so  many  places.  JSottimia 
would  take  care  of  Regina,  and  perhaps  Kegina  herself 
had  better  make  a  little  trip  for  a  change.  Y< ->, 
Settimia  had  travelled  a  good  deal  ;  she  even  knew 
enough  Kreiieh  to  travel  in  a  foreign  country,  if  m 
sary.  Corhario  said  that  he  did  not  know  where  she 
had  learned  French,  but  he  was  quite  sine  she  knew  it 
tolerably  well.  Kegina  would  be  safe  under  her  care, 
in  some  quiet  plaee  where  the  air  would  do  her  good. 

Thereupon  Corbario  went  olT  to  tlie  south,  leaving 
Mareello  plentifully  supplied  with  money  and  prom 
ising  to  write  to  him.  They  parted  affectionately. 

"  If  you  wish  to  go  away,*'  Corbario  said,  as  he 
was  leaving,  "it  might  be  as  well  to  leave  your  next 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  169 

address,  so  that  you  may  get  letters.  But  please  don't 
fancy  that  I  want  to  know  everything  you  do,  my  dear 
boy.  You  are  quite  old  enough  to  take  care  of  your 
self,  and  quite  sensible  enough,  too.  The  only  thing 
you  had  better  avoid  for  a  few  years  is  marriage  I " 

Folco  laughed  softly  as  he  delivered  this  piece  of 
advice,  and  lit  a  cigar.  Then  he  looked  critically  at 
Marcello. 

"  You  are  still  very  pale,"  he  observed  thoughtfully. 
"  You  have  not  got  back  all  your  strength  yet.  Drink 
plenty  of  champagne  at  luncheon  and  dinner.  There  is 
nothing  like  it  when  a  man  is  run  down.  And  don't 
sit  up  all  night  smoking  cigarettes  more  than  three 
times  a  week  !  " 

He  laughed  again  as  he  shook  hands  and  got  into  the 
carriage,  and  Marcello  was  glad  when  he  was  gone, 
though  he  was  so  fond  of  him.  It  was  a  bore  to  be 
told  that  he  was  not  strong,  because  it  certainly  was 
true,  and,  besides,  even  Folco  was  sometimes  a  little 
in  the  way. 

In  a  week  Marcello  and  Regina  were  in  Venice  ;  a 
month  later  they  were  in  Paris.  The  invaluable  Set- 
timia  knew  her  way  about,  and  spoke  French  with  a 
fluency  that  amazed  Marcello  ;  she  even  taught  Regina 
a  few  of  those  phrases  which  are  particularly  useful  at 
a  dressmaker's  and  quite  incomprehensible  anywhere 
else.  Marcello  told  her  to  see  that  Regina  was  per 
fectly  dressed,  and  Settimia  carried  out  his  instructions 
with  taste  and  wisdom.  Regina  had  arrived  in  Paris 
with  one  box  of  modest  dimensions  ;  she  left  with 


160  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

four  more,  of  a  size  that  made  the  railway  porters 
stagger. 

One  day  Marcello  brought  home  a  string  of  pearls  in 
his  pocket,  and  tried  to  fasten  it  round. her  throat ;  but 
she  would  not  let  him  do  it.  She  was  angry. 

"  Keep  those  things  for  your  wife  !  "  she  said,  with 
flashing  eyes  and  standing  back  from  him.  "  I  will 
wf  ar  the  clothes  you  buy  for  me,  because  you  like  me 
to  be  pretty  and  I  don't  want  you  to  be  ashamed  of 
me.  But  I  will  not  take  jewels,  for  jewels  are  money, 
just  as  gold  is  !  You  can  buy  a  wife  with  that  stuff, 
not  a  woman  who  loves  you !  " 

Her  brows  were  level  and  stern,  her  face  grew  whiter 
as  she  spoke,  and  Marcello  was  suddenly  aware,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  that  he  did  not  understand  women. 
That  knowledge  comes  sooner  or  later  to  almost  every 
man,  but  many  are  spared  it  until  they  are  much  older 
than  he  was. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you,"  he  said,  in  a  rather 
injured  tone,  as  he  slipped  the  pearls  into  his  pocket. 

"  Of  course  not,*'  she  answered.  "  But  you  do  not 
understand.  If  I  thought  you  did,  I  would  go  back  to 
the  inn  and  never  see  you  again.  I  should  die,  but  it 
would  not  matter,  for  I  should  still  respect  myself  !  " 

"  I  only  wished  to  please  you,"  said  Marcello 
apologetically. 

"  You  wish  to  please  me  ?  Love  me  I  That  is  what 
I  want.  Love  me  as  much  as  you  can,  it  will  always 
be  less  than  I  love  you,  and  as  long  as  you  can,  it  will 
always  be  less  long  than  I  shall  love  you,  for  that  will 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  161 

be  always.  And  when  you  are  tired  of  me,  tell  me  so, 
heart  of  my  heart,  and  I  will  go  away,  for  that  is  better 
than  to  hang  like  a  chain  on  a  young  man's  neck.  I 
will  go  away,  and  God  will  forgive  me,  for  to  love  you 
is  all  I  know." 

His  kisses  closed  her  flashing  eyes,  and  her  lips  parted 
in  a  faint,  expectant  smile,  that  was  not  disappointed. 

So  time  passed,  and  Marcello  heard  occasionally  from 
Corbario,  and  wrote  to  him  once  or  twice,  when  he 
needed  money.  Folco  never  alluded  to  Regina,  and 
Marcello  wondered  whether  he  guessed  that  she  had 
left  Rome.  He  was  never  quite  sure  how  much  Folco 
knew  of  his  life,  and  Folco  was  careful  never  to  ask 
questions. 

But  the  existence  Marcello  was  leading  was  not  cal 
culated  to  restore  his  strength,  which  had  never  been 
great,  even  before  his  illness.  Though  Regina  did  not 
understand  the  language,  she  grew  very  fond  of  the 
theatre,  for  Marcello  translated  and  explained  every 
thing  ;  and  it  was  such  a  pleasure  to  give  her  pleasure, 
that  he  forgot  the  stifling  air  and  the  late  hours. 
Moreover,  he  met  in  Paris  a  couple  of  acquaintances  a 
little  older  than  himself,  who  were  only  too  glad  to  see 
something  of  the  beautiful  Regina,  so  that  there  were 
often  supper-parties  after  the  play,  and  trips  in  motor 
cars  in  the  morning,  horse  races  in  the  afternoon,  and 
all  manner  of  amusements,  with  a  general  tendency  to 
look  upon  sleep  as  a  disease  to  be  avoided  and  the  wish 
to  rest  as  a  foolish  weakness.  It  was  true  that  Mar- 
cello  never  coughed,  but  he  was  very  thin,  and  his  deli- 


162  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

cate  face  had  grown  perfectly  colourless,  though  he 
followed  Corbario's  advice  and  drank  a  good  deal  of 
champagne,  not  to  mention  other  less  harmless  things, 
because  the  quick  stimulant  was  as  pleasant  as  a  nap 
and  did  not  involve  such  a  waste  of  time. 

As  for  Regina,  the  life  suited  her,  at  least  for  a  while, 
and  her  beauty  was  refined  rather  than  marred  by  a 
little  bodily  weariness.  The  splendid  blush  of  pleasure 
rarely  rose  in  her  cheeks  now,  but  the  clear  pallor  of 
her  matchless  complexion  was  quite  as  lovely.  The 
constitution  of  a  healthy  Roman  peasant  girl  does  not 
break  down  easily  under  a  course  of  pleasure  and 
amusement,  and  it  might  never  have  occurred  to  Regina 
that  Marcello  was  almost  exhausted  already,  if  her  eyes 
had  not  been  opened  to  his  condition  by  some  one  else. 

They  were  leaving  the  Tlie&tre  Frangais  one  evening, 
intending  to  go  home  on  foot  as  the  night  was  fine  and 
warm.  They  had  seen  Hernani,  and  Regina  had  naturally 
found  it  hard  to  understand  the  story,  even  with  Mar- 
cello's  explanations;  the  more  so  as  he  himself  had  never 
seen  the  play  before,  and  had  come  to  the  theatre  quite 
sure  that  it  must  be  easily  comprehensible  from  the  opera 
founded  on  it,  which  he  had  heard.  Regina's  arm  was 
passed  through  his,  and  as  they  made  their  way  through 
tin-  crowd,  under  the  not  very  brilliant  lights  in  the 
portico,  Marcello  was  doing  his  best  to  make  the  plot 
of  the  piece  clear,  and  Regina  was  looking  earnestly 
into  liis  face,  trying  to  follow  what  he  said.  Suddenly 
he  heard  an  Italian  voice  very  near  to  him,  calling  him 
by  name,  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  163 

"  Marcello ! " 

He  started,  straightened  himself,  turned  his  head, 
and  faced  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi.  Close  beside  her 
was  Aurora,  leaning  forward  a  little,  with  an  expression 
of  cold  curiosity  ;  she  had  already  seen  Regina,  who 
did  not  withdraw  her  hand  from  Marcello's  arm. 

"  You  here  ?  "  he  cried,  recovering  himself  quickly. 

As  he  spoke,  the  Contessa  realised  the  situation, 
and  at  the  same  moment  Marcello  met  Aurora's  eyes. 
Regina  felt  his  arm  drop  by  his  side,  as  if  he  were  dis 
owning  her  in  the  presence  of  these  two  smart  women 
who  were  friends  of  his.  She  forgave  him,  for  she 
was  strangely  humble  in  some  ways,  but  she  hated 
them  forthwith. 

The  Contessa,  who  was  a  woman  of  the  world, 
nodded  quietly  and  smiled  as  if  she  had  seen  nothing, 
but  she  at  once  began  to  steer  her  daughter  in  a  diver 
gent  direction. 

"  You  are  looking  very  ill,"  she  said,  turning  her 
head  back  as  she  moved  away.  "Come  and  see  us." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Marcello,  making  half  a  step  to 
follow,  and  looking  at  the  back  of  Aurora's  head  and  at 
the  pretty  hat  she  wore. 

The  Contessa  named  a  quiet  hotel  in  the  Rue  Saint 
Honore,  and  was  gone  in  the  crowd.  Marcello  stood 
quite  still  for  a  moment,  staring  after  the  two.  Then 
he  felt  Regina's  hand  slipping  through  his  arm. 

"  Come,"  she  said  softly,  and  she  led  him  away  to  the 
left. 

He  did  not  speak  for  a  long  time.      They  turned 


164  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

under  the  arches  into  the  Palais  Royal,  and  followed 
the  long  portico  in  silence,  out  to  the  Rue  Vivienne  and 
the  narrow  Rue  des  Petits  Champs.  Still  Marcello  did 
not  speak,  and  without  a  word  they  reached  the  Avenue 
de  I'Opera.  The  light  was  very  bright  there,  and 
Regina  looked  long  at  Marcello's  face,  and  saw  how 
white  it  was. 

"  She  said  you  were  looking  very  ill,"  said  she,  in  a 
voice  that  shook  a  little. 

"Nonsense  ! "  cried  Marcello,  rousing  himself.  "Shall 
we  have  supper  at  Henry's  or  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris? 
We  are  near  both." 

"We  will  go  home,"  Regina  answered.  "I  do  not 
want  any  supper  to-night." 

They  reached  their  hotel.  Regina  tossed  her  hat 
upon  a  chair  in  the  sitting-room  and  drew  Marcello  to 
the  light,  holding  him  before  her,  and  scrutinising  his 
face  with  extraordinary  intensity.  Suddenly  her  hands 
dropped  from  his  shoulders. 

"  She  was  right  ;  you  are  ill.  Who  is  this  lady  that 
knows  your  face  better  than  I  ?  " 

She  asked  the  question  in  a  tone  of  bitterness  and 
self-reproach. 

"  The  Contessa  dell'  Armi,"  Marcello  answered,  with 
a  shade  of  reluctance. 

"  And  the  girl  ?  "  asked  Regina,  in  a  flash  of  intuition. 

"  Her  daughter  Aurora."  He  turned  away,  lit  a  ciga 
rette,  and  rang  the  bell. 

Regina  bit  her  lip  until  it  hurt  her,  for  she  remem 
bered  how  often  he  had  pronounced  that  name  in  his 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  165 

delirium,  many  months  ago.  She  could  not  speak  for  a 
moment.  A  waiter  came  in  answer  to  the  bell,  and 
Marcello  ordered  something,  and  then  sat  down.  Regina 
went  to  her  room  and  did  not  return  until  the  servant 
had  come  back  and  was  gone  again,  leaving  a  tray  on 
the  table. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Marcello  in  surprise, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  her  face. 

She  sat  down  at  a  little  distance,  her  eyes  fixed  on  him. 

"  I  am  a  very  wicked  woman,"  she  said,  in  a  dull 
voice. 

"  You  ?  "     Marcello  laughed   and  filled  the  glasses. 

"  I  am  letting  you  kill  yourself  to  amuse  me,"  Regina 
said.  "  I  am  a  very,  very  wicked  woman.  But  you 
shall  not  do  it  any  more.  We  will  go  away  at  once." 

"  I  am  perfectly  well,"  Marcello  answered,  holding  out 
a  glass  to  her  ;  but  she  would  not  take  it. 

"  I  do  not  want  wine  to-night,"  she  said.  "  It  is  good 
when  one  has  a  light  heart,  but  my  heart  is  as  heavy  as 
a  stone.  What  am  I  good  for  ?  Kill  me.  It  will  be 
better.  Then  you  will  live." 

"I  should  have  died  without  you  long  ago.  You 
saved  my  life." 

"  To  take  it  again  !  To  let  you  consume  yourself, 
so  that  I  may  see  the  world  !  What  do  I  care  for  the 
world,  if  you  are  not  well  ?  Let  us  go  away  quickly." 

"  Next  week,  if  you  like." 

"  No  I     To-morrow  !  " 

**  Without  waiting  to  hear  Melba  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  to-morrow  !  " 


166  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  Or  Sarah  Bernhardt  in  Sardou's  new  play  ?  " 

44  To-morrow  !  To-morrow  morning,  early  I  What 
is  anything  compared  with  your  getting  well  ?  " 

"  And  your  new  summer  costume  that  Doucet  has  not 
finished  ?  How  about  that  ?  " 

Mareello  laughed  gaily  and  emptied  his  glass.  But 
Regina  rose  and  knelt  down  beside  him,  laying  her 
hands  on  his. 

44  We  must  go  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  You  shall 
say  where,  for  you  know  what  countries  arv,  near  P«,ris, 
and  where  there  are  hills,  and  trees,  and  waterfalls,  and 
birds  that  sing,  where  the  earth  smells  sweet  when  it 
rains,  and  it  is  quiet  when  the  sun  is  high.  We  will  go 
there,  but  you  know  where  it  is,  and  how  far." 

44 1  have  no  doubt  Settimia  knows,"  laughed  Mareello. 
"She  knows  everything." 

But  Regina's  face  was  grave,  and  she  shook  her 
head  slowly. 

44  What  is  the  use  of  laughing  ?  "  she  asked.  "  You 
cannot  deceive  me,  you  know  you  cannot  !  I  deceived 
myself  and  was  blind,  but  my  eyes  are  open  now,  and  I 
can  only  see  the  truth.  Do  you  love  me,  Mareello  ?  " 

His  eyes  looked  tired  a  moment  ago,  even  when  he 
laughed,  but  the  light  came  into  them  now.  He 
breathed  a  little  faster  and  bent  forward  to  kiss  her. 
She  could  feel  the  rising  pulse  in  his  thin  hands.  But 
she  leaned  back  as  she  knelt,  and  pressed  her  lips 
together  tightly. 

44  Not  that,"  she  said,  after  they  had  both  been  motion 
less  ten  seconds.  44 1  don't  mean  that  I  Love  is  not  all 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  167 

kisses.  There  is  more.  There  are  tears,  but  there  is 
more  too.  There  is  pain,  there  is  doubting,  there  is 
jealousy,  and  more  than  that  !  There  is  avarice  also, 
for  a  woman  who  loves  is  a  miser,  counting  her  treas 
ure  when  others  sleep.  And  she  would  kill  any  one 
who  robbed  her,  and  that  is  murder.  Yet  there  is  more, 
there  are  all  the  mortal  sins  in  love,  and  even  then  there 
is  worse.  For  there  is  this.  She  will  not  count  her 
own  soul  for  him  she  loves,  no,  not  if  the  saints  in 
Paradise  came  down  weeping  and  begging  her  to  think 
of  her  salvation.  And  that  is  a  great  sin,  I  suppose." 

Marcello  looked  at  her,  thinking  that  she  was  beauti 
ful,  and  he  aid  nothing. 

"  But  perhaps  a  man  cannot  love  like  that,"  she  added 
presently.  "  So  what  is  the  use  of  my  asking  you 
whether  you  love  me  ?  You  love  Aurora  too,  I  dare 
say  !  Such  as  your  man's  love  is,  and  of  its  kind,  you 
have  enough  for  two  I  " 

Marcello  smiled. 

"  I  do  not  love  Aurora  now,"  he  said. 

"  But  you  have,  for  you  talked  to  her  in  your  fever, 
and  perhaps  you  will  again,  or  perhaps  you  wish  to 
marry  her.  How  can  I  tell  what  you  think  ?  She  is 
prettier  than  I,  for  she  has  fair  hair.  I  knew  she  had. 
I  hate  fair  women,  but  they  are  prettier  than  we  dark 
things  ever  are.  All  men  think  so.  What  does  it  mat 
ter?  It  was  I  that  saved  your  life  when  you  were 
dying,  and  the  people  meant  you  to  die.  I  shall  always 
have  that  satisfaction,  even  when  you  are  tired  of  me." 

"  Say  never,  then  !  " 


168  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44  Never  ?  Yes,  if  I  let  you  stay  here,  you  will  not 
have  time  to  be  tired  of  me,  for  you  will  grow  thinner 
and  whiter,  and  one  day  you  will  be  breathing,  and  not 
breathing,  and  breathing  a  little  again,  and  then  not 
breathing  at  all,  and  you  will  be  lying  dead  with  your 
head  on  my  arm.  I  can  see  how  it  will  be,  for  I  thought 
more  than  once  that  you  were  dead,  just  like  that,  when 
you  had  the  fever.  No  !  If  I  let  that  happen  you  will 
never  be  tired  of  me  while  you  are  alive,  and  when  you 
are  dead  Aurora  cannot  have  you.  Perhaps  that  would 
be  better.  I  would  almost  rather  have  it  so/' 

44  Then  why  should  we  go  away  ?  "  asked  Marcello, 
smiling  a  little. 

44  Because  to  let  you  die  would  be  a  great  sin,  much 
worse  than  losing  my  soul  for  you,  or  killing  some  one 
to  keep  you.  Don't  you  see  that  ?  " 

44  Why  would  it  be  worse  ?  " 

44 1  do  not  know,  but  I  am  sure  it  would.  Perhaps 
because  it  would  be  losing  your  soul  instead  of  mine. 
Who  knows?  It  is  not  in  the  catechism.  The  cate 
chism  has  nothing  about  love,  and  I  never  learned  any 
thing  else.  But  I  know  things  that  I  never  learned. 
Every  woman  does.  How  ?  The  heart  says  them,  and 
they  are  truu.  Where  shall  we  go  to-morrow  ?  " 

44  Do  you  really  want  to  leave  Paris  ?  " 

To  impress  upon  him  that  she  was  in  earnest  Ilegina 
squeezed  his  hands  together  in  hers  with  such  energy 
that  she  really  hurt  him. 

41  What  else  have  I  been  saying  for  half  an  hour  ?  " 
she  asked  impatiently.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  playing  a 


or  THE 
UNIVERSITY 

V          °F 

WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND  169^  . 

comedy  ?  "  She  laughed.  "  Remember  that  I  have 
carried  you  up  and  down  stairs  in  my  arms,"  she  added, 
"  and  I  could  do  it  again  1  " 

"  If  you  insist  on  going  away,  I  will  walk,"  Marcello 
answered  with  a  laugh. 

She  laughed  too,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  He  put  out 
his  hand  to  fill  his  glass  again,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  the  wine  keeps  you  awake,  and 
makes  you  think  you  are  stronger  than  you  are.  You 
shall  sleep  to-night,  and  to-morrow  we  will  go.  I  am 
so  glad  it  is  settled  !  " 

She  could  do  what  she  would  with  him,  and  so  it 
turned  out  that  Marcello  left  Paris  without  going  to  see 
the  Contessa  and  Aurora  ;  and  when  he  was  fairly  away 
he  felt  that  it  was  a  relief  not  to  be  able  to  see  them, 
since  it  would  have  been  his  duty  to  do  so  if  he  had 
stayed  another  day.  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  had  not 
believed  that  he  would  come,  but  she  stopped  at  home 
that  afternoon  on  the  bare  possibility.  Aurora  made 
up  her  mind  that  if  he  came  she  would  shut  herself  up 
in  her  own  room.  She  expected  that  he  would  certainly 
call  before  the  evening,  and  was  strangely  disappointed 
because  he  did  not. 

"  Who  was  that  lady  with  him  last  night  ?  "  she  asked 
of  her  mother. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  —  lady,"  answered  the  Contessa, 
with  a  very  slight  hesitation  before  pronouncing  the 
last  word. 

But  they  had  both  heard  of  Regina  already. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  Contessa  wrote  to  Corbario  two  days  later, 
addressing  her  letter  to  Rome,  as  she  did  not  know 
where  he  was.  It  was  not  like  her  to  meddle  in  the 
affairs  of  other  people,  or  to  give  advice,  but  this  was  a 
special  case,  and  she  felt  that  something  must  be  done 
to  save  Marcello  ;  for  she  was  a  woman  of  the  world, 
with  much  experience  and  few  illusions,  and  she  under 
stood  at  a  glance  what  was  happening  to  her  dead 
friend's  son.  She  wrote  to  Folco,  telling  him  of  the 
accidental  meeting  in  the  portico  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 
c.ais,  describing  Marcello's  looks,  and  saying  pretty 
clearly  what  she  thought  of  the  extremely  hundsome 
young  woman  who  was  with  him. 

Now  Paris  is  a  big  city,  and  it  chanced  that  Corbario 
himself  was  there  at  that  very  time.  Possibly  he  had 
kept  out  of  Marcello's  way  for  some  reason  of  his  own, 
but  he  had  really  not  known  that  the  Contessa  was 
there.  Her  letter  was  forwarded  from  Rome  and 
reached  him  four  days  after  it  \v;is  written.  He  read 
it  carefully,  tore  it  into  several  dozen  little  bits,  looked 
at  his  watch,  and  went  at  once  to  the  quiet  hotel  in  the 
Rue  Saint  Honore.  The  Contessa  was  alone,  Aurora 
having  gone  out  with  her  mother's  maid. 

170 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  171 

Maddalena  was  glad  to  see  him,  not  because  she 
liked  him,  for  she  did  not,  but  because  it  would  be  so 
much  easier  to  talk  of  what  was  on  her  mind  than  to 
write  about  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  surprised  to  see  me,"  said  Folco, 
after  the  first  conventional  greeting. 

"  No,  for  one  may  meet  any  one  in  Paris,  at  any 
time  of  the  year.  When  I  wrote,  I  thought  Marcello 
must  be  alone  here  —  I  mean,  without  you,"  she  added. 

"I  did  not  know  he  had  been  here,  until  I  heard 
that  he  was  gone.  He  left  three  or  four  days  ago.  I 
fancy  that  when  you  wrote  your  letter  he  was  already 
gone." 

"Do  you  let  him  wander  about  Europe  as  he 
pleases?"  asked  the  Contessa. 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  take  care  of  himself,"  answered 
Corbario.  "  There  is  nothing  worse  for  young  men 
than  running  after  them  and  prying  into  their  affairs. 
I  say,  give  a  young  fellow  his  independence  as  soon  as 
possible.  If  he  has  been  brought  up  in  a  manly  way, 
with  a  feeling  of  self-respect,  it  can  only  do  him  good 
to  travel  alone.  That  is  the  English  way,  you  know, 
and  always  succeeds." 

"  Not  always,  and  besides,  we  are  not  English.  It  is 
not  '  succeeding,'  as  you  call  it,  in  Marcello's  case.  He 
will  not  live  long,  if  you  let  him  lead  such  a  life." 

"  Oh,  he  is  stronger  than  he  looks  I  He  is  no  more 
threatened  with  consumption  than  I  am,  and  a  boy  who 
can  live  through  what  happened  to  him  two  years  ago 
can  live  through  anything." 


172  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  quivered  as  he  looked 
quietly  into  the  Contessa's  eyes.  He  was  quite  sure 
that  she  did  not  suspect  him  of  having  been  in  any 
way  concerned  in  Marcello's  temporary  disappearance. 

"Suppose  him  to  be  as  strong  as  the  strongest," 
Maddalena  answered.  "  Put  aside  the  question  of  his 
health.  There  is  something  else  that  seems  to  me 
quite  as  important." 

"The  moral  side?"  Corbario  smiled  gravely. 
"  My  dear  lady,  you  and  I  know  the  world,  don't  we  ? 
We  do  not  expect  young  men  to  be  saints  I  " 

Maddalena,  who  had  not  always  been  a  saint, 
returned  his  look  coldly. 

"  Let  us  leave  the  saints  out  of  the  discussion,"  she 
said,  "  unless  we  speak  of  Marcello's  mother.  She  was 
one,  if  any  one  ever  was.  I  believe  you  loved  her,  and 
I  know  that  I  did,  and  I  do  still,  for  she  is  very  real  to 
me,  even  now.  Don't  you  owe  something  to  her  mem 
ory?  Don't  you  know  how  she  would  have  felt  if  she 
could  have  met  her  son  the  other  night,  as  I  met  him, 
looking  as  he  looked?  Don't  you  know  that  it  would 
have  hurt  her  as  nothing  else  could?  Think  a 
moment !  " 

She  paused,  waiting  for  his  answer  and  watching  his 
impenetrable  face,  that  did  not  change  even  when  he 
laughed,  that  could  not  change,  she  thought;  but  she 
had  not  seen  him  by  Marcello's  bedside  at  the  hospital, 
when  the  mask  had  been  gone  for  a  few  seconds.  It 
was  there  now,  in  all  its  calm  stillness. 

"You  may  be  right,"  he  answered,  almost  meekly, 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  173 

after  a  little  pause.  "I  had  not  looked  at  it  in  that 
light.  You  see,  I  am  not  a  very  sensitive  man,  and  I 
was  brought  up  rather  roughly.  My  dear  wife  went 
to  the  other  extreme,  of  course.  No  one  could  really 
be  what  she  wished  to  make  Marcello.  He  felt  that 
himself,  though  I  honestly  did  all  I  could  to  make  him 
act  according  to  his  mother's  wishes.  But  now  that 
she  is  gone  — "  he  broke  off,  and  was  silent  a  moment. 
"You  may  be  right,"  he  repeated,  shaking  his  head 
thoughtfully.  "  You  are  a  very  good  woman,  and  you 
ought  to  know." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  looked  at  him  in 
silence,  wondering  whether  she  was  not  perhaps  doing 
him  a  great  injustice;  yet  his  voice  rang  false  to  her 
ear,  and  the  old  conviction  that  he  had  never  loved  his 
wife  came  back  with  increased  force  and  with  the  cer 
tainty  that  he  had  been  playing  a  part  for  years  with 
out  once  breaking  down. 

"I  will  join  Marcello,  and  see  what  I  can  do,"  he 
said. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

44  Oh,  yes !  He  keeps  me  informed  of  his  move 
ments;  he  is  very  good  about  writing.  You  know 
how  fond  of  each  other  we  are,  too,  and  I  am  sure  he 
will  be  glad  to  see  me.  He  is  back  in  Italy  by  this 
time.  He  was  going  to  Siena.  We  were  to  have  met 
in  Rome  in  about  a  month,  to  go  down  to  San  Domen- 
ico  together,  but  I  will  join  him  at  once." 

"If  you  find  that — that  young  person  with  him, 
what  shall  you  do  ?  " 


174  WHOSO EVMK    SHALL   OFFEND 

44  Send  her  about  her  business,  of  course,"  answered 
Folco  promptly. 

44  Suppose  that  she  will  not  go,  what  then  ?  " 

44  It  can  only  be  a  question  of  money,  my  dear  lady. 
Leave  that  to  me.  Marcello  is  not  the  first  young 
fellow  who  has  been  in  a  scrape  I  " 

Still  Maddalena  did  not  trust  him,  and  she  merely 
nodded  with  an  air  of  doubt. 

44  Shall  I  not  see  Aurora  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

44  She  is  out,"  answered  the  Contessa.  "  I  will  tell 
her  that  you  asked  after  her." 

44  Is  she  as  beautiful  as  ever  ?  "  inquired  Folco. 

44  She  is  a  very  pretty  girl." 

"She  is  beautiful,"  Folco  said, with  conviction.  44I 
have  never  seen  such  a  beautiful  girl  as  she  was,  even 
when  she  was  not  quite  grown  up.  No  one  ever  had 
such  hair  and  such  eyes,  and  such  a  complexion  I  " 

44  Dear  me  ! "  exclaimed  Maddalena  with  a  little 
surprise.  44 1  had  no  idea  that  you  thought  her  so 
good-looking  !  " 

44 1  always  did.  As  for  Marcello,  we  used  to  think 
he  would  never  have  eyes  for  any  one  else." 

44  Young  people  who  have  known  each  other  well  as 
children  rarely  fall  in  love  when  they  grow  up," 
answered  Ma<lilah'ii;i. 

44  So  much  the  better,"  Folco  said.  44  Aurora  and 
Marcello  are  not  at  all  suited  to  one  another." 

44  That  is  true,"  answered  the  Contessa. 

44  And  besides,  he  is  much  too  young  for  her.  They 
iti'  nearly  of  the  same  age." 


I 
WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  175 

44 1  never  thought  of  their  marrying,"  replied  Madda- 
lena,  with  a  little  emphasis,  "  and  I  should  certainly 
not  choose  this  time  to  think  of  it  !  " 

44 1  fancy  few  men  can  look  at  your  daughter  without 
wishing  that  they  might  marry  her,  my  dear  lady," 
said  Corbario,  rising  to  go  away.  4t  Pray  present  my 
homage  to  her,  and  tell  her  how  very  sorry  I  am  not  to 
have  seen  her." 

He  smiled  as  if  he  were  only  half  in  earnest,  and  he 
took  his  leave.  He  was  scarcely  gone  when  Aurora 
entered  the  sitting-room  by  another  door. 

44  Was  it  Marcello  ? "  she  asked  quietly  enough, 
though  her  voice  sounded  a  little  dull. 

44  No,  dear,"  answered  her  mother.  44  It  was  Folco 
Corbario.  I  wrote  to  him  some  days  ago  and  he  came 
to  see  me.  Marcello  has  left  Paris.  I  did  not  know 
you  had  come  home." 

Aurora  sat  down  rather  wearily,  pulled  out  her  hat 
pins,  and  laid  her  hat  on  her  knee.  Then  she  slowly 
turned  it  round  and  round,  examining  every  inch  of  it 
with  profound  attention,  as  women  do.  They  see 
things  in  hats  which  we  do  not. 

44  Mamma  —  "  Aurora  got  no  further,  and  went  on 
turning  the  hat  round. 

44  Yes  ?     What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

44  Nothing —  I  have  forgotten."  The  hat  revolved 
steadily.  44  Are  we  going  to  stay  here  long  ?  " 

44  No.  Paris  is  too  expensive.  When  we  have  got 
the  few  things  we  want  we  will  go  back  to  Italy  — • 
next  week,  I  should  think." 


* 
176  WHOSOEVEU    SHALL   OFFEND 

"  I  wish  we  were  rich/*  observed  Aurora. 

44 1  never  heard  you  say  that  before,"  answered  her 
mother.  "  But  after  all,  wishing  does  no  harm,  and  I 
am  silly  enough  to  wish  we  were  rich  too." 

"  If  I  married  Marcello,  I  should  be  very  rich,"  said 
Aurora,  ceasing  to  turn  the  hat,  but  still  contemplating 
it  critically. 

Maddalena  looked  at  her  daughter  in  some  surprise. 
The  girl's  face  was  quite  grave. 

44  You  had  better  think  of  getting  rich  in  some  other 
way,  my  dear,"  said  the  Contessa  presently,  with  an 
asperity  that  did  not  escape  Aurora,  but  produced  no 
impression  on  her. 

44 1  was  only  supposing,"  she  said.  4t  But  if  it  comes 
to  that,  it  would  be  much  better  for  him  to  marry  me 
than  that  good-looking  peasant  girl  he  has  picked  up." 

The  Contessa  sat  up  straight  and  stared  at  her  in 
astonishment.  There  was  a  coolness  in  the  speech  that 
positively  horrified  her. 

44  My  dear  child  !  "  she  cried.  4t  What  in  the  world 
are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

44  Regina,"  answered  Aurora,  looking  up,  and 
throwing  the  hat  upon  the  table.  44 1  am  talking  about 
Marcello's  Regina.  Did  you  suppose  I  had  never 
heard  of  her,  and  that  I  did  not  guess  that  it  was  she, 
the  other  night  ?  I  had  a  good  look  at  her.  I  hate 
her,  but  she  is  handsome.  You  cannot  deny  that." 

44 1  do  not  deny  it,  I'm  sure  I  "  The  Contessa  hardly 
knew  what  to  say. 

44  Very  well.      Would    it    not   be   much   better   for 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  177 

Marcello  if  he  married  me  than  if  he  let  Regina  marry 
him,  as  she  will  ! " 

"I  —  possibly  —  you  put  it  so  strangely  !  But  I  am 
sure  Marcello  will  never  think  of  marrying  her." 

"  Then  why  does  he  go  about  with  her,  and  what  is 
it  all  for  ?  "  Aurora  gazed  innocently  at  her  mother, 
waiting  for  an  answer  which  did  not  come.  "  Besides," 
she  added,  "the  girl  will  marry  him,  of  course." 

"  Perhaps.  I  daresay  you  are  right,  and  after  all, 
she  may  be  in  love  with  him.  Why  should  you  care, 
child?" 

"Because  he  used  to  be  my  best  friend,"  Aurora 
answered  demurely.  "Is  it  wrong  to  take  an  interest 
in  one's  friends  ?  And  I  still  think  of  him  as  my 
friend,  though  I  have  never  had  a  chance  to  speak  to 
him  since  that  day  by  the  Roman  shore,  when  he  went 
off  in  a  rage  because  I  laughed  at  him.  I  wonder 
whether  he  has  forgotten  that !  They  say  he  lost  his 
memory  during  his  illness." 

"  What  a  strange  girl  you  are  !  You  have  hardly 
ever  spoken  of  him  in  all  this  time,  and  now  "  —  the 
Contessa  laughed  as  if  she  thought  the  idea  absurd  — 
"  and  now  you  talk  of  marrying  him  !  " 

"I  have  seen  Regina,"  Aurora  replied,  as  if  that 
explained  everything. 

The  Contessa  returned  no  answer,  and  she  was 
rather  unusually  silent  and  preoccupied  during  the  rest 
of  that  day.  She  was  reflecting  that  if  Aurora  had  not 
chanced  to  meet  Marcello  just  when  Regina  was  with 
him  the  girl  might  never  have  thought  of  him  again, 


178  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

except  with  a  half-amused  recollection  of  the  little 
romantic  tenderness  she  had  once  felt  for  the  friend 
and  playfellow  of  her  childhood.  Maddalena  was  a 
wise  woman  now,  and  did  not  underestimate  the  influ 
ence  of  little  things  when  great  ones  were  not  far  off. 
That  is  a  very  important  part  of  worldly  wisdom, 
which  is  the  science  of  estimating  chances  in  a  game  of 
which  love,  hate,  marriage,  fortune,  and  social  life  and 
death  may  be  the  stakes. 

Her  impulse  was  to  prevent  Aurora  from  seeing 
Marcello  for  a  long  time,  for  the  thought  of  a  possible 
marriage  had  never  attracted  her,  and  since  the  ap 
pearance  of  Regina  on  the  scene  every  instinct  of  her 
nature  was  against  it.  Her  pride  revolted  at  the 
idea  that  her  daughter  might  be  the  rival  of  a  peasant 
girl,  quite  as  much  as  at  the  possibility  of  its  being 
said  that  she  had  captured  her  old  friend's  son  for 
the  sake  of  his  money.  But  she  remembered  her 
own  younger  years  and  she  judged  Aurora  by  herself. 
There  had  been  more  in  that  little  romantic  tenderness 
for  Marcello  than  any  one  had  guessed,  much  of  it 
had  remained,  it  had  perhaps  grown  instead  of  dying 
out,  and  the  sight  of  Regina  had  awakened  it  to  some 
thing  much  stronger  than  a  girlish  fancy. 

Maddalena  remembered  little  incidents  now,  of  which 
the  importance  had  escaped  her  the  more  easily  be 
cause  the  loss  of  her  dearest  friend  had  made  her 
dull  and  listless  at  the  time.  Aurora  had  scarcely 
asked  about  Marcello  during  the  weeks  that  followed 
his  disappearance,  but  she  had  often  looked  pale  and 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  179 

almost  ill  just  then.  She  had  been  better  after  the 
news  had  come  that  he  had  been  found,  though  she 
had  barely  said  that  she  was  glad  to  hear  of  him. 
Then  she  had  grown  more  restless  than  she  used  to 
be,  and  there  had  sometimes  been  a  dash  of  hardness 
in  the  things  she  said ;  and  her  mother  was  now  quite 
sure  that  Aurora  had  intentionally  avoided  all  men 
tion  of  Marcello.  To-day,  she  had  suddenly  made 
that  rather  startling  remark  about  marrying  him. 
All  this  proved  clearly  enough  that  he  had  been  con 
tinually  in  her  thoughts.  When  very  young  people 
take  unusual  pains  to  ignore  a  certain  subject,  and 
then  unexpectedly  blurt  out  some  very  rough  obser 
vation  about  it,  the  chances  are  that  they  have  been 
thinking  of  nothing  else  for  a  long  time. 

A  good  deal  had  happened  on  that  afternoon,  for 
what  Corbario  had  said  about  Aurora,  half  playfully 
and  half  in  earnest,  had  left  Maddalena  under  the 
impression  that  he  had  been  trying  a  little  experi 
ment  on  his  own  account,  to  feel  his  way.  Aurora 
had  more  than  once  said  in  the  preceding  years  that 
she  did  not  like  his  eyes  and  a  certain  way  he  had  of 
looking  at  her.  He  had  admired  her,  even  then,  and 
now  that  he  was  a  widower  it  was  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  he  should  think  of  marrying  her.  He  was  not 
much  more  than  thirty  years  old,  and  he  had  a 
singularly  youthful  face.  There  was  no  objection  on 
the  score  of  his  age.  He  was  rich,  at  least  for  his 
life-time.  He  had  always  been  called  a  model  hus 
band  while  his  wife  had  been  alive,  and  was  said  to 


180  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

have  behaved  with  propriety  since.  Maddalena  tried 
to  look  at  the  matter  coolly  and  dispassionately,  as 
if  she  did  not  instinctively  dislike  him.  Why  should 
he  not  wish  to  marry  Aurora?  No  one  of  the 
Contessa's  acquaintances  would  be  at  all  surprised  if 
lie  did,  and  most  people  would  say  that  it  was  a  very 
good  match,  and  that  Aurora  was  fortunate  to  get 
such  a  husband. 

This  was  precisely  what  Folco  thought;  and  as  it 
was  his  nature  to  think  slowly  and  act  quickly,  it  is 
not  impossible  that  he  may  have  revolved  the  plan 
in  his  mind  for  a  year  or  two  while  Aurora  was  grow 
ing  up.  The  final  decision  had  perhaps  been  reached 
on  that  evening  down  by  the  Roman  shore,  when 
Professor  Kalmon  had  held  up  to  his  eyes  the  sure 
means  of  taking  the  first  step  towards  its  accomplish 
ment;  and  it  had  been  before  him  late  on  the  same 
night  when  he  had  stood  still  in  the  verandah  hold 
ing  the  precious  and  terrible  little  tablet  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand  ;  and  the  next  morning  when  he  had  sud 
denly  seen  Marcello  close  before  him,  unconscious  of 
his  presence  and  defenceless.  He  had  run  a  great 
risk  in  vain  that  day,  since  Marcello  was  still  alive, 
a  risk  more  awful  than  he  cared  to  remember  now; 
but  it  had  been  safely  passed,  and  he  must  never  do 
anything  so  dangerous  again.  There  was  a  far  safer 
and  surer  way  of  gaining  his  end  than  clumsy  murder, 
and  from  what  the  Contessa  had  told  him  of  the  im 
pression  she  had  received  the  accomplishment  was 
not  far  off.  She  had  said  that  Marcello  had  looked 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  181 

half  dead;  his  delicate  constitution  could  not  bear 
such  a  life  much  longer,  and  he  would  soon  be  dead 
in  earnest. 

Marcello  did  not  write  as  regularly  as  Folco  pre 
tended,  but  the  latter  had  trustworthy  and  regular 
news  of  him  from  some  one  else.  Twice  a  week, 
wherever  he  might  be,  a  square  envelope  came  by 
the  post  addressed  in  a  rather  cramped  feminine  hand, 
the  almost  unmistakable  writing  of  a  woman  who  had 
seen  better  days  and  had  been  put  to  many  shifts  in 
order  to  keep  up  some  sort  of  outward  respectability. 
The  information  conveyed  was  tolerably  well  ex 
pressed,  in  grammatical  Italian;  the  only  names  con 
tained  in  the  letters  were  those  of  towns,  and  hotels, 
and  the  like,  and  Marcello  was  invariably  spoken  of 
as  "  our  dear  patient,"  and  Regina  as  "  that  admirable 
woman"  or  "that  ideal  companion."  The  writer 
usually  said  that  the  dear  patient  seemed  less  strong 
than  a  month  ago,  or  a  week  ago,  and  expressed  a  fear 
that  he  was  slowly  losing  ground.  Sometimes  he  was 
better,  and  the  news  was  accompanied  by  a  conven 
tional  word  or  two  of  satisfaction.  Again,  there 
would  be  a  detailed  account  of  his  doings,  showing 
that  he  had  slept  uncommonly  little  and  had  no 
appetite,  and  mentioning  with  a  show  of  regret  the 
sad  fact  that  he  lived  principally  on  cigarettes,  black 
coffee,  and  dry  champagne.  The  ideal  companion 
seemed  to  be  always  perfectly  well,  showed  no  ten 
dency  to  be  extravagant,  and  gave  proof  of  the  most 
constant  devotion.  The  writer  always  concluded  by 


182  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

promising  that  Corbario's  instructions  with  regard  to 
the  dear  patient  should  be  faithfully  carried  out  in 
future  as  they  had  been  in  the  past. 

This  was  very  reassuring,  and  Folco  often  congratu 
lated  himself  on  the  wisdom  he  had  shown  in  the  selec 
tion  of  Settimia  as  a  maid  for  Regina.  The  woman  not 
only  did  what  was  required  of  her  with  the  utmost 
exactitude;  she  took  an  evident  pleasure  in  her 
work,  and  looked  forward  to  the  fatal  result  at  no 
very  distant  time  with  all  the  satisfaction  which  Cor- 
bario  could  desire.  So  far  everything  had  gone 
smoothly. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  was  high  summer  again,  and  the  Roman  shore 
was  feverish.  In  the  hot  afternoon  Ercole  had 
tramped  along  the  shore  with  his  dog  at  his  heels 
as  far  as  Torre  San  Lorenzo  to  have  a  chat  with  the 
watchman.  They  sat  in  the  shade  of  the  tower, 
smoking  little  red  clay  pipes  with  long  wooden  stems. 
The  chickens  walked  about  slowly,  evidently  oppressed 
by  the  heat  and  by  a  general  lack  of  interest  in  life, 
since  not  a  single  grain  of  maize  from  the  morning 
feed  remained  to  be  discovered  on  the  disused  brick 
threshing-floor  or  in  the  sand  that  surrounded  it. 
From  some  dark  recess  came  the  occasional  grunt  of 
the  pig,  attending  in  solitude  to  the  business  of  get 
ting  fat  before  October.  Now  and  then  the  watch 
man's  wife  moved  a  chair  in  the  lower  room  of  the 
tower,  or  made  a  little  clatter  with  some  kitchen 
utensils,  and  the  sounds  came  out  to  the  solitude 
sharply  and  distinctly. 

There  had  been  a  flat  calm  for  several  days.  Forty 
yards  below  the  tower  the  sea  lay  along  the  sandy 
beach  like  a  strip  of  glistening  white  glass,  beyond 
which  was  a  broader  band  of  greenish  blue  that  did 
not  glitter ;  and  beyond  that,  the  oily  water  stretched 
out  to  westward  in  an  unending  expanse  of  neutral 

183 


184  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFENH 

tints,  arabesqued  with  current  streaks  and  struck 
right  across  by  the  dazzling  dirty-white  blaze  of  the 
August  sun. 

Swarms  of  flies  chased  each  other  where  the  two 
men  sat,  settled  on  their  backs  and  dusty  black  hats, 
tried  to  settle  on  their  faces  and  were  brushed  away, 
crawled  on  the  ground,  on  the  walls,  even  on  the 
chickens,  and  on  the  rough  coat  of  Nino,  the  dog. 
Ke  followed  the  motions  of  those  he  saw  before  him 
with  one  bloodshot  eye;  the  other  seemed  to  be  fast 
asleep. 

From  time  to  time  the  men  exchanged  a  few  words. 
Ercole  had  apparently  come  over  to  enjoy  the  novelty 
of  seeing  a  human  being,  and  Padre  Francesco,  the 
watchman,  was  glad  to  talk  with  some  one  besides 
his  wife.  He  enjoyed  the  title  of  "  Padre,"  because 
he  had  once  been  master  of  a  small  martingane  that 
traded  between  Civita  Vecchia  and  the  south.  In 
still  earlier  days  he  had  been  in  deep  water  and  had 
been  boatswain  of  a  square-rigger,  yet  there  was 
nothing  about  his  appearance  now  to  show  that  he 
had  been  a  sailor  man.  It  was  ten  years  since  he 
had  left  the  sea,  and  he  had  turned  into  a  peasant. 

Ercole  had  told  Padre  Francesco  that  the  second 
hay  crop  had  been  half  spoilt  by  thunderstorms; 
also  that  the  price  of  wine  in  Ardea  had  gone  up, 
while  the  price  of  polenta  had  remained  the  same; 
also  that  a  wild  boar  had  broken  out  of  the  king's 
preserves  near  Nettuno  and  was  supposed  to  be 
wandering  in  the  brush  not  far  away ;  also  that  if 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  185 

Ercole  and  Nino  found  him  they  would  kill  him, 
and  that  there  would  be  a  feast.  Padre  Francesco 
observed  that  his  wife  understood  the  cooking  of 
wild  boar  with  vinegar,  sugar,  pine-nuts,  and  sweet 
herbs,  and  that  he  himself  knew  how  to  salt  the 
hams;  he  had  also  salted  the  flesh  of  porpoises  at 
sea,  more  than  once,  and  had  eaten  pickled  dog-fish, 
which  he  considered  to  be  nothing  but  young  sharks, 
in  the  West  Indies.  This  did  not  interest  Ercole 
much,  as  he  had  heard  it  before,  and  he  smoked  in 
silence  for  a  while.  So  did  Padre  Francesco;  and 
both  brushed  away  the  flies.  Nino  rolled  one  blood 
shot  eye  at  his  master,  every  time  the  latter  moved; 
and  it  grew  excessively  hot,  and  the  air  smelt  of 
chickens,  rotten  seaweed,  and  the  pig.  Yet  both 
men  were  enjoying  themselves  after  a  fashion,  though 
Ercole  distrusted  Padre  Francesco,  as  he  distrusted 
all  human  beings,  and  Padre  Francesco  looked  upon 
Ercole  as  a  person  having  no  knowledge  of  the  world, 
because  he  had  never  eaten  pickled  dog-fish  in  the 
West  Indies. 

After  a  time,  Padre  Francesco  remembered  a  piece  of 
news  which  he  had  not  yet  told,  cleared  his  throat, 
stirred  the  contents  of  his  pipe  with  the  point  of  a 
dangerous-looking  knife,  and  looked  at  his  compan 
ion  for  a  full  minute. 

"Speak,"  said  Ercole,  who  understood  these  pre 
monitory  signs. 

"  There  has  been  one  here  who  asked  after  you," 
Padre  Francesco  began. 


186  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  What  species  of  Christian  ?  "  inquired  Ercole. 

"  He  was  at  the  cottage  when  the  blessed  soul  of  the 
Signora  departed,  or  just  before  that.  It  is  a  big 
gentleman  with  a  brown  beard  and  bright  eyes.  He 
looks  for  things  in  the  sand  and  in  the  bushes  and 
amongst  the  seaweed.  Who  knows  what  he  looks 
for?  Perhaps  he  looks  for  gold." 

44  Or  the  souls  of  his  dead,"  suggested  Ercole  with 
fine  irony.  "  But  I  know  this  Signore  who  was  at 
the  cottage,  with  the  brown  beard  and  the  bright 
eyes.  He  sometimes  came  to  shoot  quail.  He  also 
killed  some.  He  is  a  professor  of  wisdom." 

44  He  asked  if  I  knew  you,  but  of  course  I  said  I  did 
not.  Why  should  he  ask  ?  How  could  I  know  what  he 
wanted  of  you.  I  said  that  I  had  never  heard  of  you." 

44  You  did  well.  Those  who  have  business  with  me 
know  where  to  find  me.  What  else  did  he  say  ?  " 

"He  asked  if  I  had  seen  the  young  gentleman  this 
year,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  not  seen  him  since 
the  night  before  he  was  lost.  So  then  I  knew  that 
he  was  a  gentleman  of  some  kind,  since  he  had  been 
at  the  cottage.  I  also  asked  if  your  masters  were 
never  coming  to  the  Roman  shore  again." 

44  What  did  he  answer  ? "  inquired  Ercole,  with  an 
air  of  utter  indifference. 

44  He  said  an  evil  thing.  He  said  that  your  young 
gentleman  had  gone  off  to  foreign  countries  with  a 
pretty  peasant  from  Frascati,  whose  name  was  Re- 
gina  ;  that  it  was  she  who  had  nursed  him  when  he 
was  ill,  in  some  inn,  and  that  out  of  gratitude,  and 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  187 

because  she  was  very  pretty,  he  had  given  her  much 
money,  and  silk  dresses  and  earrings.  That  is  what 
he  said." 

Ercole  gazed  down  at  Nino's  bloodshot  eye,  which 
was  turned  to  him  just  then. 

"A  girl  called  Regina,"  Ercole  grumbled,  in  a  tone 
even  harsher  than  usual. 

"That  is  what  he  said.  Why  should  he  tell  me 
one  thing  for  another  ?  He  said  that  your  young 
gentleman  would  perhaps  come  back  when  he  was 
tired  of  Regina.  And  he  laughed.  That  is  all." 

A  low  growl  from  Nino  interrupted  the  conversa 
tion.  It  was  very  low  and  long  and  then  rose  quickly 
and  ended  in  a  short  bark,  as  the  dog  gathered  his 
powerful  hindquarters  suddenly  and  raised  himself, 
bristling  all  over  and  thrusting  his  sinewy  forepaws 
out  before  him.  Then  the  growl  began  again,  but 
Ercole  touched  him  lightly  with  the  toe  of  his  hob 
nailed  boot,  and  the  dog  was  instantly  silent.  Both 
men  looked  about,  but  no  one  was  to  be  seen. 

"There  is  a  boat  on  the  beach,"  said  Padre  Fran 
cesco,  who  had  caught  the  faint  soft  sound  of  the 
keel  running  upon  the  sand. 

They  both  rose,  Ercole  picking  up  his  gun  as  he 
did  so  ;  Nino,  seeing  that  his  master  was  on  the  alert, 
slunk  to  his  heels  without  growling  any  more.  A 
moment  later  a  man's  voice  was  heard  calling  on  the 
other  side  of  the  tower. 

"  Hi !  Watchman  of  the  tower !  A  favour ! 
Watchman  of  the  tower  !  Hi !  " 


188  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

Padre  Francesco  turned  the  corner,  followed  by 
Ercole.  A  sailor  in  scanty  ragged  clothes  and  the 
remains  of  a  rush  hat  was  standing  barefoot  in  the 
burning  sand,  with  an  earthen  jug  in  his  hand.  A 
battered  boat,  from  which  all  traces  of  paint  had 
long  since  disappeared,  was  lying  with  her  nose 
buried  in  the  sand,  not  moving  in  the  oily  water. 
Another  man  was  in  her,  very  much  like  the  first 
in  looks. 

On  seeing  Nino  at  Ercole's  heels,  the  man  who  was 
ashore  drew  back  with  an  exclamation,  as  if  he  were 
going  to  run  away,  but  Ercole  spoke  in  a  reassuring 
tone. 

u  Be  not  afraid,"  he  said.  "  This  dog  does  not  eat 
Christians.  He  gets  enough  to  eat  at  home.  He  is 
not  a  dog,  he  is  a  lamb,  and  most  affectionate." 

"  It  is  an  evil  beast,"  observed  the  sailor,  looking  at 
Nino.  "  I  am  afraid." 

"  What  do  you  desire  ?  "  inquired  Padre  Francesco 
politely.  "  Is  it  water  that  you  wish  ?  " 

"  As  a  favour,"  answered  the  man,  seeing  that  the 
dog  did  not  fly  at  him.  UA  little  water  to  drink. 
We  have  been  pulling  all  day  ;  it  is  hot,  and  we  have 
drunk  what  we  had." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Padre  Francesco.  "  Where 
is  your  vessel  ?  " 

"  At  Kiumicino.  The  master  sent  us  on  an  errand 
to  Porto  d'Anzio  last  night  and  we  are  going  back." 

"  It  is  a  long  pull,"  obsorx  <•<!  the  watchman.  "  Tell 
the  other  man  to  come  ashore  and  rest  in  the  shade. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  189 

I  also  have  been  to  sea.  The  water  is  not  very  good 
here,  but  what  there  is  you  shall  have." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  man  gratefully,  and  giving 
Nino  a  very  wide  berth  as  he  followed  Padre  Francesco. 
"  We  could  have  got  some  water  at  the  Incastro  creek, 
but  it  would  have  been  the  same  as  drinking  the  fever." 

"  May  the  Madonna  never  will  that  you  drink  of 
it,"  said  Padre  Francesco,  as  they  reached  the  shady 
side  of  the  tower.  "  I  see  that  you  know  the  Roman 
shore." 

"It  is  our  business,"  replied  the  man,  taking  off 
his  ragged  rush  hat,  and  rubbing  his  still  more  ragged 
blue  cotton  sleeve  over  his  wet  forehead.  "  We  are 
people  of  the  sea,  bringing  wine  and  lemons  to  Civita 
Vecchia  and  taking  charcoal  back.  Evil  befall  this 
calm  weather." 

"  And  when  it  blows  from  the  west-southwest  we 
say,  evil  befall  this  time  of  storm,"  said  Padre  Fran 
cesco,  nodding  wisely.  "  Be  seated  in  the  shade.  I 
will  fetch  water." 

"And  also  let  us  drink  here,  so  that  we  may  take 
the  jug  away  full." 

"You  shall  also  drink  here."  The  old  watchman 
went  into  the  tower. 

"  The  last  time  I  passed  this  way,  it  was  in  a  west- 
southwest  gale,"  said  the  man,  addressing  Ercole, 
who  had  sat  down  in  his  old  place  with  his  dog  at 
his  feet. 

"  It  is  an  evil  shore,"  Ercole  answered.  "  Many 
vessels  have  been  lost  here." 


190  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  We  were  saved  by  a  miracle  that  time/'  said  the 
sailor,  who  seemed  inclined  to  talk.  "  I  was  with  a 
brigantine  with  wine  for  Marseilles.  That  vessel  was 
like  a  rock  in  the  sea,  she  would  not  move  with  less 
than  seven  points  of  the  wind  in  fair  weather.  We 
afterwards  went  to  Rio  Janeiro,  and  it  was  two  years 
before  we  got  back." 

"So  it  was  two  years  ago  that  you  passed?"  in 
quired  Ercole. 

"Two  years  ago  May  or  the  beginning  of  June. 
She  was  so  low  in  the  water  that  she  would  have 
swamped  if  we  had  tried  to  carry  on  sail,  and  with  the 
sail  she  could  carry  she  could  make  no  headway ;  so 
there  we  were,  hove  to  under  lower  topsail  and  balance- 
reefed  mainsail  and  storm-jib,  with  a  lee  shore  less 
than  a  mile  away.  We  recommended  ourselves  to  the 
saints  and  the  souls  of  purgatory,  and  our  captain  said 
to  us,  *  My  fine  sons,  unless  the  wind  shifts  in  half  an 
hour  we  must  run  her  ashore  and  save  the  cargo  ! ' 
That  is  what  he  said.  But  I  said  that  I  knew  this 
Roman  shore  from  a  boy,  and  that  sometimes  there 
was  no  bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  Incastro,  so  that  a 
vessel  might  just  slip  into  the  pool  where  the  reeds 
grow.  You  certainly  know  the  place." 

"  I  know  it  well,"  said  Ercole. 

"  Yes.  So  I  pointed  out  the  spot  to  our  captain, 
standing  beside  him,  and  he  took  his  glasses  and 
looked  to  see  whether  the  sea  was  breaking  on  the 
bar." 

"  The  bar  has  not  been  open  since  I  came  here,"  said 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  191 

Padre  Francesco,  returning  with  water.  "And  that 
is  ten  years." 

The  men  drank  eagerly,  one  after  the  other,  and 
there  was  silence.  The  one  who  had  been  speaking 
wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand  and  drew 
a  long  breath  of  satisfaction. 

"  No,  I  daresay  not,"  he  said  at  last.  "  The  captain 
looked  all  along  the  shore  for  a  better  place.  Then 
he  saw  a  bad  thing  with  his  glasses  ;  for  they  were 
fine  glasses,  and  though  he  was  old,  he  had  good  sight. 
And  I  stood  beside  him,  and  he  told  me  what  he  saw 
while  he  was  looking." 

"  What  did  he  see  ? "  asked  Ercole,  watching  the 
man. 

"  What  did  he  see  ?  I  tell  you  it  was  a  bad  sight  I 
Health  to  us  all,  as  many  as  are  here,  he  saw  one  man 
kill  another  and  drag  his  body  into  some  bushes." 

"  Apoplexy  I "  observed  Ercole,  glancing  at  Padre 
Francesco.  "  Are  there  brigands  here  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  what  the  captain  said.  '  There  are  two 
men,'  said  he,  'and  they  are  like  gentlemen  by  their 
dress.'  'They  shoot  quail,'  said  I,  knowing  the 
shore.  'They  have  no  guns,'  said  he.  Then  he 
cried  out,  keeping  his  glasses  to  his  eyes  and  steadying 
himself  by  the  weather  vang.  '  God  be  blessed,'  he 
cried  —  for  he  never  said  an  evil  word,  that  captain,  — 
'one  of  those  gentlemen  has  struck  the  other  on  the 
back  of  the  head  and  killed  him  !  And  now  he  drags 
his  body  away  towards  the  bushes.'  And  he  saw 
nothing  more,  but  he  showed  me  the  place,  where 


192  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

there  is  a  gap  in  the  high  bank.  Afterwards  he  said 
he  thought  he  had  seen  a  woman  too,  and  that  it  must 
have  been  an  affair  of  jealousy." 

Ercole  and  Padre  Francesco  looked  at  each  other  in 
silence  for  a  moment. 

"  Did  you  hear  of  no  murder  at  that  time  ? "  asked 
the  sailor,  taking  up  the  earthen  jar  full  of  water. 

44  We  heard  nothing,"  said  Ercole  promptly. 

44  Nothing,"  echoed  Padre  Francesco.  "  The  captain 
was  dreaming.  He  saw  trees  moving  in  the  wind." 

44  Don  Antoniuo  had  good  eyes,"  answered  the 
sailor  incredulously. 

44  What  was  the  name  of  your  vessel  ?  "  asked  Padre 
Francesco. 

44 The  Papa"  replied  the  sailor  without  a  smile. 
44  She  was  called  Papa" 

Ercole  stared  at  him  a  moment  and  then  laughed  ; 
and  he  laughed  so  rarely  that  it  distorted  the  yellow 
parchment  of  his  face  as  if  it  must  crack  it.  The 
sound  of  his  laughter  was  something  like  the  creaking 
of  a  cart  imitated  by  a  ventriloquist.  But  Padre 
Francesco  knit  his  bushy  brows,  for  he  thought  the 
sailor  was  making  game  of  him,  who  had  been  boat 
swain  on  a  square-rigger. 

44 1  went  to  sea  for  thirty  years,"  he  said,  44but  I 
never  heard  of  a  vessel  called  the  Papa.  You  have 
said  a  silly  thing.  I  have  given  you  water  to  drink, 
and  filled  your  jar.  It  is  not  courtesy  to  jest  at  men 
older  than  you." 

44  Excuse   me,"  answered  the   man   politely.     44  May 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  193 

it  never  be  that  I  should  jest  at  such  a  respectable 
man  as  you  seem  to  be ;  and,  moreover,  you  have 
filled  the  jar  with  your  own  hands.  The  brigantine 
was  called  as  I  say.  And  if  you  wish  to  know  why, 
I  will  tell  you.  She  was  built  by  two  rich  brothers 
of  Torre  Annunziata,  who  wished  much  good  to  their 
papa  when  he  was  old  and  no  longer  went  to  sea. 
Therefore,  to  honour  him,  they  called  the  vessel  the 
Papa.  This  is  the  truth." 

Lest  this  should  seem  extravagantly  unlikely  to  the 
readers  of  this  tale,  I  shall  interrupt  the  conversation 
to  say  that  I  knew  the  Papa  well,  that  "  she  "  was  built 
and  christened  as  the  sailor  said,  and  that  her  name 
still  stood  on  the  register  of  Italian  shipping  a  few 
years  ago.  She  was  not  a  brigantine,  however,  but  a 
larger  vessel,  and  she  was  bark-rigged  ;  and  she  was 
ultimately  lost  in  port,  during  a  hurricane. 

"We  have  learned  something  to-day,"  observed 
Ercole,  when  the  man  had  finished  speaking. 

"  It  is  true,"  the  man  said.  "  And  the  name  of  the 
captain  was  Don  Antonino  Maresca.  He  was  of  Vico." 

"  Where  is  Vico  ?  "  inquired  Ercole,  idly  scratching 
his  dog's  back  with  the  stock  of  his  gun. 

"Near  Castellamare,"  answered  Padre  Francesco, 
willing  to  show  his  knowledge. 

"  One  sees  that  you  are  a  man  of  the  sea,"  said  the 
sailor,  meaning  to  please  him.  "  And  so  we  thank  you, 
and  we  go." 

Ercole  and  the  old  watchman  saw  the  two  ragged 
sailors  put  off  in  the  battered  boat  and  pull  away  over 


194  WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND 

the  bar  ;  then  they  went  back  to  the  shade  of  the 
tower  and  sat  down  again  and  refilled  their  pipes,  and 
were  silent  for  a  long  time.  Padre  Francesco's  old 
wife,  who  had  not  shown  herself  yet,  came  and  stood 
in  the  doorway,  nodded  to  Ercole,  fanned  herself  with 
her  apron,  counted  the  chickens  in  sight,  and  observed 
that  the  weather  was  hot.  Then  she  went  in  again. 

"  It  is  easy  to  remember  the  name  of  that  ship,"  said 
Ercole  at  last,  without  glancing  at  his  companion. 

"And  the  master  was  Antonino  Maresca  of  Vico," 
said  Padre  Francesco. 

"  But  the  truth  is  that  it  is  none  of  our  business,'* 
said  Ercole. 

"  The  captain  was  mistaken,"  said  Padre  Francesco. 

44  He  saw  trees  moving  in  the  wind,"  said  Ercole. 

Then  they  looked  at  each  other  and  nodded. 

44  Perhaps  the  Professor  was  mistaken  about  the  girl, 
and  the  silk  dress  and  the  gold  earrings,"  suggested 
Padre  Francesco,  turning  his  eyes  away. 

"  He  was  certainly  mistaken,"  asserted  Ercole,  watch 
ing  him  closely.  "And  moreover  it  is  none  of  our 
business." 

"None  whatever." 

They  talked  of  other  things,  making  remarks  at 
longer  and  longer  intervals,  till  the  sun  sank  near  the 
oily  sea,  and  Ercole  took  his  departure,  much  wiser  in 
regard  to  Marcello's  disappearance  than  when  he  had 
come.  He  followed  the  long  beach  for  an  hour  till  he 
came  to  the  gap  in  the  bank.  There  he  stopped,  and 
•  proceeded  to  examine  the  place  carefully,  going  well 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  195 

inside  it,  and  then  turning  to  ascertain  exactly  where 
Marcello  must  have  been  when  he  was  struck,  since 
at  that  moment  he  must  have  been  distinctly  visible 
from  the  brigantine.  The  gap  was  so  narrow  that  it 
was  not  hard  to  fix  upon  the  spot  where  the  deed  had 
been  done,  especially  as  the  captain  had  seen  Marcello 
dragged  quickly  away  towards  the  bushes.  Every 
word  of  the  sailor's  story  was  stamped  with  truth ;  and 
so  it  came  about  that  when  Corbario  believed  himself 
at  last  quite  safe,  a  man  in  his  own  pay  suddenly  dis 
covered  the  whole  truth  about  the  attempted  crime, 
even  to  the  name  of  the  principal  witness. 

It  was  only  in  the  quail  season,  when  there  were 
poachers  about,  during  April,  May,  and  early  June, 
that  Ercole  lived  in  his  straw  hut,  a  little  way  from 
the  cottage.  He  spent  the  rest  of  the  year  in  a  small 
stone  house  that  stood  on  a  knoll  in  sight  of  Ardea, 
high  enough  to  be  tolerably  safe  from  the  deadly  Cam- 
pagna  fever.  Every  other  day  an  old  woman  from  the 
village  brought  him  a  copper  conca  full  of  water ;  once 
a  month  she  came  and  washed  for  him.  When  he 
needed  supplies  he  went  to  Ardea  for  them  himself. 
His  dwelling  was  of  elementary  simplicity,  consisting 
of  two  rooms,  one  above  the  other,  with  grated  win 
dows  and  heavy  shutters.  In  the  lower  one  he  cooked 
and  ate,  in  the  upper  chamber  he  slept  and  kept  his 
few  belongings,  which  included  a  plentiful  supply  of 
ammunition,  his  Sunday  clothes,  his  linen,  and  his 
papers.  The  latter  consisted  of  a  copy  of  his  certifi 
cate  of  birth,  his  old  military  pass-book,  showing  that 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

he  hail  served  his  time  in  an  infantry  regiment,  had 
been  called  in  for  six  weeks'  drill  in  the  reserve,  had 
been  a  number  of  years  in  the  second  reserve,  and 
had  finally  been  discharged  from  all  military  service. 
This  booklet  serves  an  Italian  throughout  life  as  a 
certificate  of  identity,  and  is  necessary  in  order  to 
obtain  a  passport  to  leave  the  country.  Ercole  kept 
his,  with  two  or  three  other  yellow  papers,  tied  up  in 
an  old  red  cotton  handkerchief  in  the  bottom  of  the 
chest  that  held  his  clothes. 

When  he  got  home  after  his  visit  to  Padre  Francesco 
he  took  the  package  out,  untied  the  handkerchief,  and 
looked  through  all  the  papers,  one  by  one,  sitting  by 
the  grated  window  in  the  twilight.  He  could  read, 
and  had  once  been  able  to  write  more  or  less  intelligi 
bly,  and  he  knew  by  heart  the  contents  of  the  paper  he 
wanted,  though  he  had  not  unfolded  it  for  years.  He 
now  read  it  carefully,  and  held  it  some  time  open  in 
his  hand  before  he  put  it  back  with  the  rest.  He  held 
it  so  long,  while  lie  looked  out  of  his  grated  window, 
that  at  last  he  could  see  the  little  lights  twinkling  here 
and  there  in  the  windows  of  Ardea,  and  it  was  almost 
dark  in  the  room.  Nino  grew  restless,  and  laid  his 
grim  head  on  Ercole's  knee,  and  his  bloodshot  eyes 
began  to  glow  in  the  dark  like  coals.  Then  Ercole 
moved  at  last. 

"  Ugly  animal,  do  you  wish  me  well  ?  "  he  asked, 
rubbing  the  dog's  head  with  his  knotty  hand.  "  If  you 
are  good,  you  shall  go  on  a  journey  with  me.'* 

Nino's  body  moved  in  a  way  which  showed  that  he 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  197 

would  have  wagged  his  tail  if  he  had  possessed  one, 
and  he  uttered  a  strange  gurgling  growl  of  satisfaction. 

The  next  morning,  the  old  woman  came  before  sun 
rise  with  water. 

"  You  need  not  bring  any  more,  till  I  let  you  know," 
Ercole  said.  "  I  am  going  away  on  business  for  a  few 
days,  and  I  shall  shut  up  the  house." 

"For  anything  that  is  in  it,  you  might  leave  the 
door  open,"  grumbled  the  hag,  who  was  of  a  sour  tem 
per.  "  Give  me  my  pay  before  you  go." 

"  You  fear  that  I  am  going  to  America,"  retorted 
Ercole,  producing  an  old  sheepskin  purse  from  the 
inside  of  his  waistcoat.  "  Here  is  your  money.  Four 
trips,  four  pennies.  Count  them  and  go  in  peace." 

He  gave  her  the  coppers,  and  she  carefully  tied  them 
up  in  a  corner  of  her  ragged  kerchief. 

"And  the  bread?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

Ercole  went  to  the  blackened  cupboard,  took  out  the 
remains  of  a  stale  loaf,  drew  a  big  clasp-knife  from  his 
pocket,  and  cut  off  a  moderate  slice. 

"  Eat,"  he  said,  as  he  gave  it  to  her. 

She  went  away  grumbling,  and  Nino  growled  after 
her,  standing  on  the  door-step.  When  she  was  a  hun 
dred  yards  from  the  house,  he  lay  down  with  his  jaw 
on  his  forepaws  and  continued  to  watch  her  till  she 
was  out  of  sight ;  then  he  gave  a  snort  of  satisfaction 
and  immediately  went  to  sleep. 

Ercole  left  his  home  after  sunset  that  evening.  He 
locked  both  the  upper  and  lower  doors  and  immediately 
dropped  the  huge  key  into  a  crevice  in  the  stone  steps, 


198  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

from  which  one  might  have  supposed  that  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  recover  it  ;  but  he  doubtless  knew  what  he 
was  about.  He  might  have  had  one  of  the  little  horses 
from  the  farm  if  he  had  wanted  one,  for  he  was  a  privi 
leged  person,  but  he  preferred  to  walk.  To  a  man  of 
his  wiry  frame  thirty  or  forty  miles  on  foot  were 
nothing,  and  he  could  easily  have  covered  the  distance 
in  a  night  ;  but  he  was  not  going  so  far,  by  any  means, 
and  a  horse  would  only  have  been  in  the  way.  He 
carried  his  gun,  from  force  of  habit,  and  he  had  his 
gun-licence  in  his  pocket,  with  his  other  papers,  tied 
up  in  the  old  red  handkerchief.  There  was  all  that 
was  left  of  the  stale  loaf,  with  the  remains  of  some 
cheese,  in  a  canvas  bag,  he  had  slung  over  his  shoulder, 
and  he  had  plenty  of  money  ;  for  his  wages  were  good, 
and  he  never  spent  more  than  half  of  what  he  received, 
merely  because  he  had  no  wants,  and  no  friends. 

Under  the  starlight  he  walked  at  a  steady  pace  by 
familiar  paths  and  byways,  so  as  to  avoid  the  village 
and  strike  the  highroad  at  some  distance  beyond  it. 
Nino  followed  close  at  his  heels  and  perfectly  silent, 
and  the  pair  might  have  been  dangerous  to  any  one 
inclined  to  quarrel  with  them. 

When  Ercole  was  in  sight  of  Porta  San  Sebastiano 
it  was  past  midnight,  and  he  stood  still  to  fill  and  light 
his  little  clay  pipe.  Then  he  went  on  ;  but  instead  of 
entering  the  gate  he  took  the  road  to  the  right  again, 
along  the  Via  Appia  Nuova.  Any  one  might  have 
supposed  that  he  would  have  struck  across  to  that  high 
road  some  time  before  reaching  the  city,  but  it  was 


ERCOLE  LEFT  HIS  HOME  AFTER  SUNSET  THAT  EVENING." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  199 

very  long  since  Ercole  had  gone  in  that  direction  ; 
many  new  roads  had  been  opened  and  some  old  ones 
had  been  closed,  and  he  was  simply  afraid  of  losing  his 
way  in  a  part  of  the  Campagna  no  longer  familiar  to 
him. 

A  short  distance  from  the  gate,  where  the  inn  stands 
that  goes  by  the  name  of  Baldinotti,  he  took  the  turn 
ing  to  the  left,  which  is  the  Frascati  road  ;  and  after 
that  he  walked  more  slowly,  often  stopping  and  peer 
ing  into  the  gloom  to  right  and  left,  as  if  he  were  try 
ing  to  recognise  objects  in  the  Campagna. 


CHAPTER   XII 

CORBARIO  was  not  pleased  with  the  account  given 
by  Settimia  in  the  letter  she  wrote  him  after  reaching 
Pontresina  with  Regina  and  Marcello,  who  had  chosen 
the  Engadine  as  the  coolest  place  he  could  think  of  in 
which  to  spend  the  hot  months,  and  had  preferred  Pontre 
sina  to  Saint  Moritz  as  being  quieter  and  less  fashion 
able.  Settimia  wrote  that  the  dear  patient  had  looked 
better  the  very  day  after  arriving  ;  that  the  admirable 
companion  was  making  him  drink  milk  and  go  to  bed 
at  ten  o'clock  ;  that  the  two  spent  most  of  the  day  in 
the  pine-woods,  and  that  Marcello  already  talked  of  an 
excursion  up  the  glacier  and  of  climbing  some  of  the 
smaller  peaks.  If  the  improvement  continued,  Settimia 
wrote,  it  was  extremely  likely  that  the  dear  patient 
would  soon  be  better  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 

Folco  destroyed  the  letter,  lit  a  cigarette,  and 
thought  the  matter  over.  He  had  deemed  it  wise  to 
pretend  assent  when  the  Contessa  had  urged  him  to  join 
Marcello  at  once,  but  he  had  not  had  the  least  in 
tention  of  doing  so,  and  had  come  back  to  Paris  as  soon 
as  he  was  sure  that  the  Contessa  was  gone.  But  he 
had  made  a  mistake  in  his  calculations.  He  had 
counted  on  Regina  for  the  love  of  excitement,  display, 

200 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  201 

and  inane  dissipation  which  women  in  her  position  very 
often  develop  when  they  find  that  a  man  will  give  them 
anything  they  like  ;  and  he  had  counted  very  little  on 
her  love  for  Marcello.  Folco  was  still  young  enough 
to  fall  into  one  of  the  most  common  errors  of  youth, 
which  is  to  believe  most  people  worse  than  they  are. 
Villains,  as  they  grow  older,  learn  that  unselfish  devo 
tion  is  more  common  than  they  had  thought,  and  that 
many  persons  habitually  speak  the  truth  for  conscience' 
sake  ;  finding  this  out,  villains  have  been  known  to  turn 
into  good  men  in  their  riper  years,  and  have  sometimes 
been  almost  saints  in  their  old  age.  Corbario  smoked 
his  cigarette  and  mentally  registered  his  mistake,  and 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  humiliation  he  felt  at  hav 
ing  made  it  was  much  more  painful  than  the  recollec 
tion  of  having  dropped  one  deadly  tablet  into  a  little 
bottle  that  contained  many  harmless  ones.  He  com 
pared  it  in  his  mind  to  the  keen  disappointment  he  had 
felt  when  he  had  gone  down  to  hide  Marcello's  body, 
and  had  discovered  that  he  had  failed  to  kill  him.  It 
is  true  that  what  he  had  felt  then  had  been  accompanied 
by  the  most  awful  terror  he  could  imagine,  but  he  dis 
tinguished  clearly  between  the  one  sensation  and  the 
other.  There  was  nothing  to  fear  now  ;  he  had  simply 
lost  time,  but  that  was  bad  enough,  since  it  was  due  to 
his  own  stupidity. 

He  thought  over  the  situation  carefully  and  con 
sidered  how  much  it  would  be  wise  to  risk.  Another 
year  of  the  life  Marcello  had  been  leading  in  Paris 
would  have  killed  him  to  a  certainty;  perhaps  six 


202  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

months  would  have  done  it.  But  a  summer  spent  at 
Pontresina,  living  as  it  was  clear  that  Ilegina  meant 
him  to  live,  would  give  the  boy  strength  enough  to 
last  much  longer,  and  might  perhaps  bring  him  out  of 
all  danger. 

Corbario  considered  what  might  be  done,  went  over 
many  plans  in  his  mind,  compared  many  schemes,  for 
the  execution  of  some  of  which  he  might  have  paid 
dearly  ;  and  in  the  end  lie  was  dissatisfied  with  all,  and 
began  over  again.  Still  he  reached  no  conclusion,  and 
he  attributed  the  fault  to  his  own  dulness,  and  his  dul- 
ness  to  the  life  he  had  been  leading  of  late,  which  was 
very  much  that  which  he  wished  Marcello  to  lead. 
But  he  had  always  trusted  his  nerves,  his  ingenuity, 
and  his  constitution ;  if  one  of  the  three  were  to  fail 
him,  now  that  he  was  rich,  it  was  better  that  it  should 
be  his  ingenuity. 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  the  Engadine  and  see 
for  himself  how  matters  looked.  He  could  stay  at 
Saint  Moritz,  or  even  Samaden,  so  as  not  to  disturb 
Marcello's  idyl,  and  Marcello  could  coine  down  alone 
to  see  him.  He  should  probably  meet  acquaintances, 
and  would  give  them  to  understand  that  he  had  come 
in  order  to  get  rid  of  Reginu  and  save  his  stepson  from 
certain  destruction.  Society  was  very  lenient  to  young 
men  as  rich  as  Marcello,  he  reflected,  but  was  inclined 
to  lay  all  the  blame  of  their  doings  on  their  natural 
guardians.  There  was  no  reason  why  Corbario  should 
expose  himself  to  such  criticism,  and  lie  was  sure  that 
the  Contessa  had  only  said  what  many  people  clearly 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  203 

thought,  namely,  that  he  was  allowing  Marcello  far  too 
much  liberty.  The  world  should  see  that  he  was  doing 
his  duty  by  the  boy. 

He  left  Paris  with  regret,  as  he  always  did,  after 
writing  to  Marcello  twenty-four  hours  beforehand. 
He  wrote  at  the  same  time  to  Settimia. 

"  Folco  will  be  here  to-morrow,"  Marcello  said,  as  he 
and  Regina  sat  under  the  pine-trees  beyond  the  stream, 
a  little  way  above  the  town. 

Regina  sat  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and 
Marcello  lay  on  his  side,  resting  on  his  elbow  and  look 
ing  up  to  her.  He  saw  her  face  change. 

"  Why  should  he  come  here  ?  "  she  asked.  "  We  are 
so  happy  !  " 

"  He  will  not  disturb  us,"  Marcello  answered.  "  He 
will  stop  at  Saint  Moritz.  I  shall  go  down  to  see  him 
there.  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  you  know,  and  we  have 
not  seen  each  other  for  at  least  two  months.  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  see  him.'* 

The  colour  was  sinking  in  Regina's  face,  and  her  eye 
lids  were  almost  closed. 

"You  are  the  master,"  she  said  quietly  enough. 
"  You  will  do  as  you  will. " 

He  was  surprised,  and  he  felt  a  little  resentment  at 
her  tone.  He  liked  her  better  when  she  dominated 
him,  as  on  that  night  in  Paris  when  she  had  made  him 
promise  to  come  away,  and  had  refused  to  let  him  drink 
more  wine,  and  had  sent  him  to  bed  like  a  child.  Now 
she  spoke  as  her  forefathers,  serfs  born  to  the  plough 
and  bound  to  the  soil,  must  have  spoken  to  their  lords 


204  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

and  owners.  There  was  no  ancient  aristocratic  blood 
in  his  own  veins  ;  he  was  simply  a  middle-class  Italian 
gentleman  who  chanced  to  be  counted  with  the  higher 
class  because  he  had  been  born  very  rich,  had  been 
brought  up  by  a  lady,  and  had  been  more  or  less  well 
educated.  That  was  all.  It  did  not  seem  natural  to 
him  that  she  should  call  him  "  the  master "  in  that 
tone.  He  knew  that  she  was  not  his  equal,  but  some 
how  it  was  a  little  humiliating  to  have  to  own  it,  and 
he  often  wished  that  she  were.  Often,  not  always  ; 
for  he  had  never  been  sure  that  he  should  have  cared 
to  make  her  his  wife,  had  she  been  ever  so  well  born. 
He  scarcely  knew  what  he  really  wanted  now,  for  he 
had  lost  his  hold  on  himself,  and  was  content  with  mere 
enjoyment  from  day  to  day.  He  could  no  longer 
imagine  living  without  her,  and  while  he  was  conscious 
that  the  present  state  of  things  could  not  last  very  long, 
he  could  not  face  the  problem  of  the  future. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  she  sat  quite  still, 
almost  closing  her  eyes. 

"  Why  should  you  be  displeased  because  I  am  going 
to  see  Folco  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  while. 

"  He  comes  to  take  you  away  from  me,"  she  answered, 
without  moving. 

"  That  is  absurd !  "  cried  Marcello,  annoyed  by  her 
tone. 

"  No.     It  is  true.     I  know  it." 

"  You  are  unreasonable.  He  is  the  best  friend  I 
have  in  the  world.  Do  you  expect  me  to  promise  that 
I  will  never  see  him  again?  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  205 

"You  are  the  master." 

She  repeated  the  words  in  the  same  dull  tone,  and 
her  expression  did  not  change  in  the  least.  Marcello 
moved  and  sat  up  opposite  to  her,  clasping  his  hands 
round  his  knees.  He' was  very  thin,  but  the  colour 
was  already  coming  back  to  his  face,  and  his  eyes  did 
not  look  tired. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "  You  must  put  this  idea 
out  of  your  head.  It  was  Folco  who  found  the  little 
house  in  Trastevere  for  you.  He  arranged  everything. 
It  was  he  who  got  you  Settimia.  He  did  everything 
to  make  you  comfortable,  and  he  has  never  disturbed 
us  once  when  we  have  been  together.  He  never  so 
much  as  asked  where  I  was  going  when  I  used  to  go 
down  to  see  you  every  afternoon.  No  friend  could 
have  done  more." 

"I  know  it,"  Regina  answered;  but  still  there  was 
something  in  her  tone  which  he  could  not  understand. 

"Then  why  do  you  say  that  he  means  to  separate 
us?" 

Regina  did  not  reply,  but  she  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  into  Marcello's  long  and  lovingly.  She  knew 
something  that  lie  did  not  know,  and  which  had 
haunted  her  long.  When  Folco  had  come  to  the  bed 
side  in  the  hospital,  she  had  seen  the  abject  terror  in 
his  face,  the  paralysing  fear  in  his  attitude,  the  trem 
bling  limbs  and  the  cramped  fingers.  It  had  only  lasted 
a  moment,  but  she  could  never  forget  it.  A  child 
would  have  remembered  how  Folco  looked  then,  and 
Regina  knew  that  there  was  a  mystery  there  which  she 


206  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

could  not  understand,  but  which  frightened  her  when 
she  thought  of  it.  Folco  had  not  looked  as  men  do 
who  see  one  they  love  called  back  from  almost  certain 
death. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  ?  "  Marcello  asked,  for  her 
deep  look  stirred  his  blood,  and  he  forgot  Folco  and 
everything  in  the  world  except  the  beautiful  creature 
that  sat  there,  within  his  reach,  in  the  lonely  pine-woods. 

She  understood,  and  turned  her  eyes  to  the  distance ; 
ami  she  saw  the  quiet  room  in  the  hospital,  the  iron 
bedstead  painted  white,  the  smooth  pillow,  Marcello's 
emaciated  head,  and  Corbario's  face. 

44 1  was  thinking  how  you  looked  when  you  were  ill," 
she  answered  simply. 

The  words  and  the  tone  broke  the  soft  little  spell 
that  had  been  weaving  itself  out  of  her  dark  eyes. 
Marcello  drew  a  short,  impatient  breath  and  threw 
himself  on  his  side  again,  supporting  his  head  on  his 
hand  and  looking  down  at  the  brown  pine-needles. 

44  You  do  not  know  Folco,"  he  said  discontentedly. 
44 1  don't  know  why  you  should  dislike  him." 

44 1  will  tell  you  something,"  Regina  answered. 
"  \Vhen  you  are  tired  of  me,  you  shall  send  me  away. 
You  shall  throw  me  away  like  an  old  coat." 

M  You  are  always  saying  that!"  returned  Marcello, 
displeased.  44  You  know  very  well  that  I  shall  never 
be  tired  of  you.  Why  do  you  say  it  ?  " 

44  Because  I  shall  not  complain.  I  shall  not  cry,  and 
throw  myself  on  my  knees,  and  say,  4  For  the  love 
of  heaven,  take  me  back  I '  I  am  not  made  like  that. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  207 

i  shall  go,  without  any  noise,  and  what  must  be  will 
be.  That  is  all.  Because  I  want  nothing  of  you  but 
love,  I  shall  go  when  you  have  no  more  love.  Why 
should  I  ask  you  for  what  you  have  not  ?  That  would 
be  like  asking  charity  of  the  poor.  It  would  be  foolish. 
But  I  shall  tell  you  something  else." 

"  What  ? "  asked  Marcello,  looking  up  to  her  face 
again,  when  she  had  finished  her  long  speech. 

"If  any  one  tries  to  make  me  go  before  you  are 
tired  of  me,  it  shall  be  an  evil  day  for  him.  He  shall 
wish  that  he  had  not  been  born  into  this  world." 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  Marcello  said.  "  No  one  shall 
come  between  us." 

"  Well,  I  have  spoken.  It  does  not  matter  whether 
I  fear  Signer  Corbario  or  not,  but  if  you  like  I  will  tell 
him  what  I  have  told  you,  when  he  comes.  In  that 
way  he  will  know." 

She  spoke  quietly,  and  there  was  no  murderous  light 
in  her  eyes,  nor  any  dramatic  gesture  with  the  words ; 
but  she  was  a  little  paler  than  before,  and  there  was  an 
odd  fixedness  in  her  expression,  and  Marcello  knew 
that  she  was  deeply  moved,  by  the  way  she  fell  back 
into  her  primitive  peasant's  speech,  not  ungrammatical, 
but  oddly  rough  and  forcible  compared  with  the  lan 
guage  of  educated  society  which  she  had  now  learned 
tolerably  well  from  him. 

After  that  she  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  then  they 
talked  as  usual,  and  the  day  went  by  as  other  days  had 
gone. 

On  the  next  afternoon  Folco  Corbario  reached  Saint 


208  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

Moritz  and  sent  a  note  up  to  Marcello  asking  him  to 
come  down  on  the  following  morning. 

Regina  was  left  alone  for  a  few  hours,  and  she  went 
out  with  the  idea  of  taking  a  long  walk  by  herself.  It 
would  be  a  relief  and  almost  a  pleasure  to  walk  ten 
miles  in  the  clear  air,  breathing  the  perfume  of  the 
pines  and  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  torrent.  Mar- 
cello  could  not  walk  far  without  being  tired,  and  she 
never  thought  of  herself  when  he  was  with  her;  but 
when  she  was  alone  a  great  longing  sometimes  came 
over  her  to  feel  the  weight  of  a  conca  full  of  water  on 
her  head,  to  roll  up  her  sleeves  and  scrub  the  floors, 
to  carry  burdens  and  work  with  her  hands  all  day  long, 
as  she  had  done  ever  since  she  was  a  child,  with  the 
certainty  of  being  tired  and  hungry  and  sleepy  after 
wards.  Her  hands  had  grown  smooth  and  white  in  a 
year,  and  her  feet  were  tender,  and  she  had  almost 
forgotten  what  bodily  weariness  meant. 

But  she  was  alone  this  morning,  and  she  was  full 
of  gloomy  presentiments.  To  stay  indoors,  or  even 
to  go  and  sit  in  the  accustomed  place  under  the  pine- 
trees,  would  be  unbearable.  She  felt  quite  sure  that 
when  Marcello  came  back  he  would  be  changed,  that 
his  expression  would  be  less  frank  and  natural,  that  he 
would  avoid  her  eyes,  and  that  by  and  by  he  would  tell 
her  something  that  would  hurt  her  very  much.  Folco 
had  come  to  take  him  away,  she  was  quite  sure,  and  it 
would  be  intolerable  to  sit  still  and  think  of  it. 

She  walked  fast  along  the  road  that  leads  to  the 
Rosegg  glacier,  not  even  glancing  at  the  few  people 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  209 

she  met,  though  most  of  them  stared  at  her,  for  almost 
every  one  in  Pontresina  knew  who  she  was.  The 
reputation  of  a  great  beauty  is  soon  made,  and  Regina 
had  been  seen  often  enough  in  Paris  alone  with  Mar- 
cello  in  a  box  at  the  theatre,  or  dining  with  him  and 
two  or  three  other  young  men  at  Ritz's  or  the  Cafe 
Anglais,  to  be  an  object  of  interest  to  the  clever  Pari 
sian  "chroniclers."  The  papers  had  duly  announced 
the  fact  that  the  beauty  had  arrived  at  Pontresina,  and 
the  dwellers  in  the  hotel  were  delighted  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her,  while  those  at  Saint  Moritz  wished  that 
she  and  Marcello  had  taken  up  their  quarters  there 
instead  of  in  the  higher  village.  Old  maids  with 
shawls  and  camp-stools  glared  at  her  round  the  edge 
of  their  parasols.  English  girls  looked  at  her  in  frank 
admiration,  till  they  were  reproved  by  their  mothers, 
who  looked  at  her  with  furtive  interest.  Young  Eng 
lishmen  pretended  not  to  see  her  at  all,  as  they  strode 
along  with  their  pipes  in  their  mouths ;  but  they  had 
an  odd  habit  of  being  about  when  she  passed.  An 
occasional  party  of  German  students,  who  are  the  only 
real  Bohemians  left  to  the  world  in  these  days  of 
progress,  went  sentimentally  mad  about  her  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  planned  serenades  in  her  honour  which 
did  not  come  off.  A  fashionable  Italian  composer  dedi 
cated  a  song  to  her,  and  Marcello  asked  him  to  dinner, 
for  which  he  was  more  envied  by  the  summer  colony 
than  for  his  undeniable  talent.  The  Anglican  clergy 
man  declared  that  he  would  preach  a  sermon  against 
her  wickedness,  but  the  hotel-keepers  heard  of  his 


-10  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

intention  and  unanimously  requested  him  to  let  her 
alone,  which  he  did,  reluctantly  yielding  to  arguments 
which  shall  remain  a  secret.  A  certain  Archduchess 
who  was  at  Saint  Moritz  and  was  curious  to  see  her 
adopted  the  simple  plan  of  asking  her  to  tea  without 
knowing  her,  at  which  Marcello  was  furious;  a  semi- 
imperial  Russian  personage  unblushingly  scraped  ac 
quaintance  with  Marcello  and  was  extremely  bland  for 
a  few  days,  in  the  hope  of  being  introduced  to  Regiua. 
When  he  found  that  this  was  impossible,  he  went  away, 
not  in  the  least  disconcerted,  and  he  was  heard  to  say 
that  the  girl  "  would  go  far."  • 

Regina  would  have  been  blind  if  she  had  not  been 
aware  that  she  attracted  all  this  attention,  and  as  she 
was  probably  not  intended  by  nature  for  a  saint,  she 
would  have  been  pleased  by  it  if  there  had  been  room 
in  her  thoughts  for  any  one  but  Marcello  —  even  for 
herself. 

She  walked  far  up  the  road,  and  after  the  first  mile 
or  two  she  met  no  one.  At  that  hour  the  people  who 
made  excursions  were  already  far  away,  and  those  who 
meant  to  do  nothing  stayed  nearer  to  Pontresina.  She 
grew  tired  of  the  road  after  a  time.  It  led  straight  to 
the  foot  of  the  glacier,  and  she  was  not  attracted  by 
snow  and  ice  as  northern  people  are  ;  there  was  some 
thing  repellent  to  her  in  the  thought  of  the  bleakness 
and  cold,  and  the  sunshine  itself  looked  as  hard  as  the 
distant  peaks  on  which  it  fell.  But  on  the  right  there 
were  rocky  spurs  of  the  mountains,  half  covered  with 
short  trees  and  brilliant  with  wild  flowers  that  grew  in 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  211 

little  natural  gardens  here  and  there,  not  far  below  the 
level  of  perpetual  snow.  She  left  the  road,  and  began 
to  climb  where  there  was  no  path.  The  air  was  deli 
cious  with  the  scent  of  flowers  and  shrubs  ;  there  were 
alp-roses  everywhere,  and  purple  gentian,  and  the  little 
iva  blossom  that  has  an  aromatic  smell,  and  on  tiny 
moss  ledges  the  cold  white  stars  of  the  edelweiss 
seemed  to  be  keeping  themselves  as  far  above  reach  as 
they  could.  But  she  climbed  as  lightly  as  a  savage 
woman,  and  picked  them  and  sat  down  to  look  at  them 
in  the  sunshine.  Just  beyond  where  she  rested,  the 
rock  narrowed  suddenly  to  a  steep  pass,  within  which 
were  dark  shadows.  People  who  do  not  attempt  any 
thing  in  the  way  of  ascending  peaks  often  wander  in 
that  direction  in  search  of  edelweiss,  but  Regina 
fancied  that  she  was  sure  to  be  alone  as  long  as  she 
pleased  to  stay. 

If  she  had  not  been  sure  of  that  she  would  not  have 
taken  off  her  left  shoe  to  shake  out  some  tiny  thing 
that  had  got  into  it  and  that  annoyed  her.  It  turned 
out  to  be  a  bit  of  pine-needle.  It  was  pleasant  to  feel 
her  foot  freed  from  the  hot  leather  and  resting  on  the 
thick  moss,  and  so  the  other  shoe  came  off  too,  and  was 
turned  upside  down  and  shaken,  as  an  excuse,  for  there 
was  nothing  in  it,  and  both  feet  rested  in  the  moss,  side 
by  side.  She  wished  she  could  take  off  her  stockings, 
and  if  there  had  been  a  stream  she  would  have  done  it, 
so  sure  was  she  that  no  one  would  disturb  her,  up  there 
amongst  the  rocks  and  ever  so  far  from  Pontresina. 
It  would  have  been  delightful  to  paddle  in  the  cold 


212  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

running  water,  for  it  was  much  hotter  than  she  had 
ever  supposed  that  it  could  be  in  such  a  place. 

She  took  off  her  straw  hat,  and  fanned  herself  gently 
with  it,  letting  the  sunshine  fall  full  upon  her  thick 
black  hair.  She  had  never  owned  a  hat  in  her  life  till 
she  had  been  installed  in  the  little  house  in  Trastevere, 
and  she  hated  the  inconvenient  things.  What  was  her 
hair  for,  if  it  could  not  protect  her  head  ?  But  a  straw 
hat  made  a  very  good  fan.  The  air  was  hot  and  still, 
and  there  were  none  of  those  thousand  little  sounds 
which  she  would  have  heard  in  the  chestnut  woods 
above  Frascati. 

A  little  cry  broke  the  silence,  and  she  turned  her 
head  in  the  direction  whence  it  came.  Then  she 
dropped  her  hat,  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  ran  forwards, 
forgetting  that  she  had  no  shoes  on.  She  saw  a  figure 
clinging  to  the  rocks,  where  they  suddenly  narrowed, 
and  she  heard  the  cry  again,  desperate  with  fear  and 
weak  with  effort.  A  young  girl  had  evidently  been 
trying  to  climb  down,  when  she  had  lost  her  footing, 
and  had  only  been  saved  from  a  bad  fall  because  her 
grey  woollen  frock  had  caught  her  upon  a  projecting 
point  of  granite,  giving  her  time  to  snatch  at  the  strong 
twigs  of  some  alp-roses,  and  to  find  a  very  slight  pro 
jection  on  which  she  could  rest  the  toe  of  one  shoe. 
She  was  hanging  there  with  her  face  to  the  rock,  eight 
or  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  which  was  strewn  with 
big  stones,  and  she  was  in  such  a  position  that  she 
seemed  unable  to  turn  her  head  in  order  to  look  down. 

In  ten  seconds  Regina  was  standing  directly  below 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  213 

the  terrified  girl,  raising  herself  on  tiptoe,  and  trying  to 
reach  her  feet  with  her  hands,  to  guide  them  to  a  hold ; 
but  she  could  not. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  Regina  said  in  Italian,  which 
was  the  only  language  she  knew. 

"  I  cannot  hold  on  !  "  answered  the  girl,  trying  to 
look  down,  but  feeling  that  her  foot  would  slip  if  she 
turned  her  head  far  enough. 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  Regina  replied,  too  much  roused  to 
be  surprised  that  the  answer  had  come  in  her  own 
language.  "  Your  dress  will  hold  you,  even  if  you  let 
go  with  your  hands.  It  is  new  and  it  is  strong,  and  it 
is  fairly  caught  on  the  rock.  I  can  see  that." 

"  But  I  can't  hang  here  until  you  go  and  get  help," 
cried  the  girl,  not  much  reassured. 

"I  am  going  to  climb  to  the  top  by  an  easier  way 
and  pull  you  up  again,"  Regina  answered.  "  Then  we 
can  get  down  together." 

While  Regina  was  speaking  she  had  already  begun 
the  ascent,  which  was  easy  enough  for  her,  at  the  point 
she  had  chosen,  though  many  an  Alpine  climber  might 
have  envied  the  quickness  and  sureness  of  her  hold 
with  feet  and  hands.  She  realised  that  she  had  forgot 
ten  her  shoes  now,  and  was  glad  that  she  had  taken 
them  off. 

"  One  minute  more  !  "  she  cried  in  an  encouraging 
tone,  when  she  had  almost  reached  the  top. 

"  Quick  I  "  came  the  imploring  answer. 

Then  Regina  was  lying  flat  on  the  ledge  above  the 
girl,  stretching  both  hands  down  and  catching  the 


214  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

slender  white  wrists  with  a  hold  like  steel.  And  then, 
feeling  herself  held  and  safe  to  move,  the  girl  looked 
up,  and  Regina  was  looking  into  Aurora's  face  below 
her.  For  one  instant  the  two  did  not  recognise  each 
other,  for  they  had  only  seen  each  other  once,  by  night, 
under  the  portico  of  the  Theatre  Francois.  But  an 
instant  later  a  flush  of  anger  rose  to  Aurora's  forehead, 
and  the  dark  woman  turned  pale,  and  her  brows  were 
suddenly  level  and  stern.  They  hated  each  other,  as 
the  one  hung  there  held  by  the  other's  hands,  and  the 
black  eyes  gazed  savagely  into  the  angry  blue  ones. 
Aurora  was  not  frightened  any  longer  ;  she  was  angry 
because  she  was  in  Regina's  power.  The  strong  woman 
could  save  her  if  she  would,  and  Aurora  would  despise 
herself  ever  afterwards  for  having  been  saved  by  her. 
Or  the  strong  woman  could  let  her  fall,  and  she  would 
probably  be  maimed  for  life  if  she  were  not  killed  out 
right.  That  seemed  almost  better.  She  had  never 
understood  before  what  it  could  mean  to  be  altogether 
in  the  power  of  an  enemy. 

Regina  meant  to  save  her  ;  that  was  clear.  With 
quick,  commanding  words  she  told  her  what  to  do. 

44  Set  your  knees  against  the  rock  and  pull  yourself 
up  a  little  by  my  hands.  So  !  I  can  pull  you  higher 
now.  Get  one  knee  well  on  that  ledge.  Now  I  will 
hold  your  left  hand  with  both  mine  while  you  dis 
entangle  your  frock  from  the  point.  Now  put  your 
right  hand  round  my  neck  while  I  raise  myself  a  little. 
Yes,  that  way.  Now,  hold  on  tight  I  " 

Regina    made    a    steady    effort,    lifting    fully    half 


REGINA  MADE  A  STEADY  EFFORT,  LIFTING  FULLY  HALF  AURORA'S 

WEIGHT   WITH   HER." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  215 

Aurora's  weight  with  her,  as  she  got  first  upon  one 
knee  and  then  upon  both. 

"There  !  Take  breath  and  then  scramble  over  the 
edge,"  she  said. 

A  few  seconds,  another  effort,  and  Aurora  sank 
exhausted  beside  Regina,  half  sitting,  half  lying,  and 
resting  on  one  hand. 

She  looked  up  sideways  at  the  dark  woman's  face  ; 
for  Regina  stood  upright,  gazing  down  into  the  valley. 
Aurora  turned  her  eyes  away,  and  then  looked  up 
again  ;  she  had  recovered  her  breath  now. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  with  an  effort. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  Regina  answered  in  an  indifferent 
tone,  and  without  so  much  as  moving  her  head  ;  she 
was  no  more  out  of  breath  than  if  she  had  been  sitting 
still. 

The  fair  girl  hated  her  at  that  moment  as  she  had 
never  hated  any  one  in  her  short  life,  nor  had  ever 
dreamed  of  hating.  The  flush  of  anger  rose  again  and 
again  to  her  forehead,  to  the  very  roots  of  her  auburn 
hair,  and  lingered  a  second  and  sank  again.  Regina 
stood  perfectly  motionless,  her  face  as  unchanging  as 
marble. 

Aurora  rose  to  her  feet,  and  leaned  against  the 
rock.  She  had  suddenly  felt  herself  at  a  disadvantage 
in  remaining  seated  on  the  ground  while  her  adversary 
was  standing.  It  was  the  instinct  of  the  animal  that 
expects  to  be  attacked.  When  two  people  who  hate 
each  other  or  love  each  other  very  much  meet  without 
warning  in  a  very  lonely  place,  the  fierce  old  passions 


216  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

of  the  stone  age  may  take  hold  of  them  and  sway  them, 
even  nowadays. 

For  a  time  that  seemed  long,  there  was  silence  ; 
without  words  each  knew  that  the  other  had  recognised 
her.  The  peasant  woman  spoke  first,  though  with  an 
evident  effort,  and  without  turning  her  eyes. 

44  When  you  are  rested,  we  will  go  down,"  she 
said. 

Aurora  moved  a  step  towards  the  side  on  which 
Regina  had  climbed  up. 

44 1  think  I  can  get  down  alone,"  dhe  answered 
coldly. 

Regina  looked  at  her  and  laughed  with  a  little  con 
tempt. 

44  You  will  break  your  neck  if  you  try,"  she  said. 
44  You  cannot  climb  at  all  !  " 

44 1  think  I  can  get  down,"  Aurora  repeated. 

She  went  to  the  edge  and  was  going  to  begin  the 
attempt  when  Regina  seized  her  by  the  wrist  and 
dragged  her  back  in  spite  of  her  resistance. 

44 1  have  something  to  tell  you  first,"  Regina  said. 
44  Afterwards  I  will  take  you  down,  and  you  shall  not 
fall.  You  shall  reach  the  bottom  safely  and  go 
home  alone,  or  I  will  show  you  the  way,  as  you 
please." 

44  Let  go  of  my  wrist !  "  Aurora  spoke  angrily,  for 
the  strong  grasp  hurt  her  and  humiliated  her. 

44  Listen  to  me,"  continued  Regina,  loosing  her  hold 
at  once.  "  I  am  Regina.  You  are  Aurora.  We  have 
heard  of  each  other,  and  we  have  met.  Let  us  talk. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  217 

This  is  a  good  place  and  we  are  alone,  and  the  day  is 
long,  and  we  may  not  meet  again  soon.  We  will  say 
what  we  have  to  say  now,  and  then  we  will  part." 

"  What  is  there  to  be  said  ?  "  Aurora  asked  coldly 
and  drawing  back  a  little. 

"We  two  love  the  same  man,"  Regina  said.  "Is 
that  nothing  ?  You  know  it  is  true.  If  we  were  not 
Christians  we  should  try  to  kill  each  other  here,  where 
it  is  quiet.  I  could  easily  have  killed  you  just  nowr 
and  I  wished  to." 

"  I  wonder  why  you  did  not !  "  exclaimed  Aurora, 
rather  scornfully. 

"  I  thought  with  myself  thus  :  '  If  I  kill  her,  I  shall 
always  have  the  satisfaction  of  it  as  long  as  I  live. 
This  is  the  truth.  But  I  shall  go  to  prison  for  many 
years  and  shall  not  see  him  again,  therefore  I  will  not 
do  it.  Besides,  it  will  not  please  him.  If  it  would 
make  him  happy  I  would  kill  her,  even  if  I  were  to  go 
to  the  galleys  for  it.  But  it  would  not.  He  would  be 
very  angry.'  This  is  what  I  thought ;  and  I  pulled 
you  up.  And  now,  I  will  not  let  you  hurt  yourself  in 
getting  down,  because  he  would  be  angry  with  me  if  he 
knew  that  it  was  my  fault." 

Aurora  listened  to  this  extraordinary  argument  in 
silent  surprise.  She  was  not  in  the  least  frightened, 
but  she  saw  at  a  glance  that  Regina  was  quite  in  ear 
nest,  and  she  knew  her  own  people,  and  that  the  Roman 
peasants  are  not  the  gentlest  of  the  Italians. 

"  He  would  be  very  angry,"  Regina  repeated.  "  I 
am  sure  he  would !  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

M  \Vhy  should  he  be  angry  ?  "  Aurora  asked,  in  a 
tone  half  contemptuous  and  yet  half  sad. 

"  I  know  he  would,  because  when  he  raved  in  his 
fever  he  used  to  call  for  you." 

Aurora  started  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  Regina's. 

"  Yes,"  Regina  said,  answering  the  look.  "  He  often 
called  you  by  name.  He  loved  you  once." 

She  pronounced  the  words  with  an  accent  of  pity, 
drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height ;  and  there  was 
triumph  in  the  light  of  her  eyes.  It  is  not  every 
woman  that  has  a  chance  of  saying  so  much  to  her 
rival. 

"  We  were  children  then,"  Aurora  said,  in  the  very 
words  she  had  used  to  her  mother  more  than  two  years 
earlier. 

She  was  almost  as  pale  as  Regina  now,  for  the  thrust 
had  been  straight  and  sure,  and  right  at  her  heart. 
But  she  was  prouder  than  the  peasant  woman  who  had 
wounded  her. 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  saved  his  life,"  she  said 
presently.  "  And  he  loves  you.  You  are  happy  I  " 

••  I  should  always  be  happy  if  he  and  I  were  alone 
in  the  world,"  Regina  answered,  for  she  was  a  little 
softened  by  the  girl's  tone.  "  But  even  now  they  are 
trying  to  part  us." 

"  To  part  you  ?  "  Again  Aurora  looked  up  suddenly. 
'•  \Vho  is  trying  to  do  that  ?  A  woman  ?  " 

Regina  laughed  a  little. 

44  You  are  jealous,"  she  said.  "  That  shows  that  you 
love  him  still.  No.  It  is  not  a  woman." 


WHOSOEyER    SHALL    OFFEND  219 

"  Corbario  ? "  The  name  rose  instinctively  to 
Aurora's  lips. 

"  Yes,"  Regina  answered.  "  That  is  why  I  am  left 
alone  this  morning.  Signor  Corbario  is  at  Saint 
Moritz  and  Marcello  is  gone  down  to  see  him.  I  know 
he  is  trying  to  separate  us.  You  did  not  know  that  he 
was  so  near  ?  " 

"  We  only  came  yesterday  afternoon,"  Aurora 
answered.  "We  did  not  know  that  —  that  Signor 
Consalvi  was  here,  or  we  should  not  have  come  at  all." 

It  had  stung  her  to  hear  Regina  speak  of  him  quite 
naturally  by  his  first  name.  Regina  felt  the  rebuke. 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  that  I  should  have  accidentall}7 
found  myself  in  your  path,"  she  said,  emphasising  the 
rather  grand  phrase,  and  holding  her  handsome  head 
very  high. 

Aurora  almost  smiled  at  this  sudden  manifestation  of 
the  peasant's  nature,  and  wondered  whether  Regina 
ever  said  such  things  to  Marcello,  and  whether,  if  she 
did,  they  jarred  on  him  very  much.  The  speech  had 
the  very  curious  effect  of  restoring  Aurora's  sense  of 
superiority,  and  she  answered  more  kindly. 

"  You  need  not  be  sorry,"  she  said.  "  If  you  had  not 
chanced  to  be  here  I  should  probably  be  lying  amongst 
the  rocks  down  there  with  several  broken  bones." 

"  If  it  were  not  by  my  fault  I  should  not  care," 
Regina  retorted,  with  elementary  frankness. 

"  But  I  should  !  "  Aurora  laughed,  in  spite  of  herself, 
and  liking  this  phase  of  Regina's  character  better  than 
any  she  had  yet  seen.  "  Come,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden 


220  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

generous  impulse,  and  holding  out  her  hand,  "let  us 
stop  quarrelling.  You  saved  me  from  a  bad  accident, 
and  I  was  too  ungenerous  to  be  grateful.  I  thank 
you  now,  with  all  my  heart." 

Regina  was  surprised  and  stared  hard  at  her  for  a 
moment,  and  then  glanced  at  her  outstretched  hand. 

"  You  would  not  take  my  hand  if  there  were  any  one 
here  to  see." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  they  have  told  you  that  I  am  a  wicked 
woman,"  Regina  answered,  a  slight  blush  rising  in  her 
cheeks.  "And  perhaps  it  is  true.  But  it  was  for 
him." 

"  I  would  take  your  hand  anywhere,  because  you 
saved  his  life,"  said  Aurora,  and  her  voice  shook  a  little 
as  she  said  the  last  words.  "  And  besides,  no  one  has 
told  me  that  you  are  wicked.  Come,  what  is  the  use 
of  hating  each  other  ?  " 

Regina  took  her  hand  reluctantly,  but  not  suspiciously, 
and  held  it  a  moment. 

"  It  does  not  mean  that  I  shall  not  hate  you  if  he 
ever  loves  you  again,"  she  said.  "  If  I  made  you  think 
that  it  would  be  treachery,  and  that  is  the  worst  sin." 

"It  only  means  that  I  thank  you  now,  quite  hon 
estly,"  Aurora  answered,  and  their  hands  parted. 

"  Very  well."  Regina  seemed  satisfied.  "And  I 
thank  you  for  taking  my  hand,"  she  added,  with  some 
thing  oddly  like  real  gratitude,  "and  because  you 
said  you  would  do  it  anywhere,  even  before  other 
women.  I  know  what  I  am,  and  what  people  call  me. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  221 

But  it  was  for  him.  Let  us  not  talk  of  it  any  more. 
I  will  help  you  down,  and  you  shall  go  home  alone." 

"  My  mother  is  waiting  for  me  far  down,  towards  the 
village,"  Aurora  said. 

"  All  the  better.  A  young  lady  like  you  should  not 
go  about  without  any  one.  It  is  not  proper." 

Aurora  suppressed  a  smile  at  the  thought  of  being 
reproved  concerning  the  proprieties  by  "  Marcello's 
Regina,"  and  she  began  the  descent.  Regina  went 
down  first,  facing  the  rock,  and  planting  the  young 
girl's  feet  in  the  best  stepping  places,  one  after  the 
other,  with  constant  warnings  and  instructions  as  to 
holding  on  with  her  hands.  They  reached  the  bottom 
in  safety,  and  came  to  the  place  where  Regina  had  left 
her  hat  and  shoes.  She  sat  down  where  she  had  been 
sitting  when  she  had  first  heard  the  cry,  and  began  to 
put  them  on. 

"  I  had  taken  them  off  for  coolness  as  I  sat  here," 
she  explained.  "  You  see,  until  I  was  fourteen  I  only 
wore  them  on  Sundays." 

"  And  yet  you  have  such  beautiful  feet,"  Aurora 
said. 

"  Have  I  ?  "  Regina  asked  indifferently.  "  I  thought 
all  feet  were  alike.  But  I  have  torn  my  stocking  —  it 
is  hard  to  get  the  shoe  on." 

"Let  me  help  you."  Aurora  knelt  down  quickly, 
and  began  to  loosen  the  lacing  further,  but  Regina  pro 
tested,  flushing  deeply  and  trying  to  draw  her  foot 
back. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  cried.     "  You  are  a  lady  !  " 


222  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

u  What  difference  does  that  make  ?  "  asked  Aurora, 
laughing  and  insisting. 

u  This  is  not  right !  "  Regina  still  protested,  and  the 
blush  had  not  left  her  cheeks. 

Hut  Aurora  smoothed  the  torn  stocking  under  the 
sole  of  each  foot,  and  slipped  on  the  shoes,  which  were 
by  no  means  tight,  and  tied  the  lacing  fast. 

"  Thank  you,  Signorina,"  Regina  said,  much  confused. 
44  You  are  too  good  !  " 

She  picked  up  her  hat  and  put  it  on,  but  she  was  not 
clever  with  the  pin,  for  she  was  used  to  having  Settimia 
do  everything  for  her  which  she  had  not  learned  to  do 
for  herself  before  she  had  come  to  Rome. 

44 1  can  never  manage  it  without  Settimia,"  she  said, 
as  if  excusing  herself  for  her  awkwardness,  as  she  again 
submitted  to  Aurora's  help. 

44  Settimia  ?  "  repeated  the  young  girl,  as  she  put  the 
hat  on  and  thrust  a  long  pin  through  it.  "  Who  is 
Settimia  ?  " 

44  Our  —  I  mean  my  maid,"  Regina  explained. 
44  Thank  you.  You  are  too  good  I  " 

44  It  is  an  uncommon  name,"  Aurora  said,  looking 
critically  at  the  hat.  44  But  I  think  I  have  heard  it 
before." 

44  She  is  a  wonderful  woman.  She  knows  French. 
She  knows  everything  !  " 

Aurora  s.iid  nothing  to  this,  but  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  recall  something  she  had  long  forgotten.  Regina 
was  very  busy  in  her  turn,  pulling  down  the  girl's 
frock  all  round,  and  brushing  it  with  her  hand  as  well 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  223 

as  she  could,  and  picking  off  bits  of  dry  grass  and 
thistles  that  clung  to  the  grey  woollen.  Aurora 
thanked  her. 

"The  way  down  is  very  easy  now,"  Regina  said. 
"  A  few  steps  farther  on  we  can  see  the  road." 

44  After  all,  why  should  you  not  come  with  me  till  we 
find  my  mother?"  Aurora  asked. 

"  No,"  Regina  answered  with  quiet  decision.  "  I 
am  what  I  am.  You  must  not  be  seen  with  Regina. 
Do  not  tell  your  mother  that  you  have  been  with  me, 
and  I  shall  not  tell  Marcello  —  I  mean,  Signor  Con- 
salvi." 

44  Why  not  ?  " 

44  Neither  of  them  would  be  pleased.  Trust  me.  I 
know  the  world.  Good-bye,  and  the  Madonna  accom 
pany  you  ;  and  remember  what  I  said  when  I  took 
your  hand." 

So  they  parted,  and  Regina  stood  up  a  long  time, 
and  watched  the  slender  grey  figure  descending  to  the 
road  in  the  valley. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

44  VARIETY,  my  dear  Marcello,  variety  !  There  is 
nothing  like  it.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  make  some 
change,  for  your  life  must  be  growing  monotonous, 
and  besides,  though  I  have  not  the  least  intention  of 
reading  you  a  lecture,  you  have  really  made  your 
doings  unnecessarily  conspicuous  of  late.  The  Paris 
chroniclers  have  talked  about  you  enough  for  the  pres 
ent.  Don't  you  think  so?  Yes,  finish  the  bottle. 
I  always  told  you  that  champagne  was  good  for  you." 

Marcello  filled  his  glass  and  sipped  the  wine  before 
he  answered.  It  had  not  gone  to  his  head,  but  there 
was  colour  in  his  lean  cheeks,  his  eyes  were  brighter 
than  usual,  and  he  felt  the  familiar  exhilaration  which 
he  had  missed  of  late. 

44 1  have  been  drinking  milk  for  ten  days,"  he  said 
with  a  smile,  as  he  set  down  the  glass. 

44  Good  in  its  way,  no  doubt,"  Corbario  answered 
genially,  "  but  a  little  tiresome.  One  should  often 
change  from  simple  things  to  complicated  ones.  It  is 
the  science  of  enjoyment.  Besides,  it  is  bad  for  the 
digestion  to  live  always  on  bread  and  milk." 

44 1  don't  live  on  that  altogether,"  laughed  Marcello. 

"  I  mean  it  metaphorically,  my  dear  boy.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  simplifying  one's  existence  too  much. 

224 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  225 

That  sometimes  ends  in  getting  stuck.  Now  you  can 
not  possibly  allow  yourself  to  get  stuck  in  your  present 
position.  You  know  what  I  mean.  Oh,  I  don't  blame 
you  !  If  I  were  your  age  I  should  probably  do  the 
same  thing,  especially  if  I  had  your  luck.  Blame 
you  ?  No  !  Not  in  the  least.  The  cigarettes  are 
there.  You've  not  given  up  smoking  too  ?  No,  that's 
right.  A  man  without  a  small  vice  is  as  uninteresting 
as  a  woman  without  a  past  or  a  landscape  without 
shadows.  Cigarettes  never  hurt  anybody.  Look  at 
me  !  I  used  to  smoke  fifty  a  day  when  I  was  your 
age." 

Marcello  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke,  stirred  his  coffee, 
and  leaned  back.  He  had  scarcely  heard  what  Cor- 
bario  said,  but  the  elder  man's  careless  chatter  had  put 
him  at  his  ease. 

"  Folco,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question,  and  I  want  you  to  answer  me  seriously.  Will 
you  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  I  can,"  answered  Corbario,  instantly 
changing  his  tone  and  growing  earnest. 

"  Don't  be  surprised,"  Marcello  said,  half  apolo 
getically,  as  if  he  were  already  weakening.  "  I  shall 
never  do  anything  without  your  advice.  Of  course 
you  know  how  I  feel  about  all  this,  that  I  am  leading  a 
disorderly  life,  and  —  well,  you  understand  !  " 

"  Perfectly,  my  dear  boy.  I  only  wish  to  help  you 
out  of  it  as  soon  as  possible,  if  you  want  to  be  helped. 
I'm  quite  sure  that  you  will  pull  through  in  time. 
I  have  always  believed  in  you." 

Q 


226  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  Thank  you.  I  know  you  have.  Well,  I'll  ask  you 
my  question.  You  know  well  enough  that  I  shall 
never  care  for  society  much,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Society  will  care  for  you,"  answered  Folco.  "  What 
is  the  question  ?  " 

"  I'm  coming  to  it,  but  I  want  to  explain,  or  it  will 
not  be  quite  clear.  You  see,  it  is  not  as  if  I  were  a 
personage  in  the  world." 

"  What  sort  of  personage  ?     Please  explain." 

"  I  mean,  if  I  were  the  head  of  a  great  house,  with  a 
great  title  and  hereditary  estate." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  "     Folco  was  mystified. 

"If  I  were,  it  would  make  a  difference,  I  suppose. 
But  I'm  not.  I'm  plain  Marcello  Consalvi,  no  better 
than  any  one  else." 

"  But  vastly  richer,"  Folco  suggested. 

"I  wish  I  were  not.  I  wish  I  were  a  poor  clerk, 
working  for  my  living." 

"  The  air  of  this  place  is  not  good  for  you,  my  boy." 
Folco  laughed  gaily. 

"  No,  don't  laugh  !  Fin  in  earnest.  If  I  were  a 
poor  man,  nobody  would  think  it  at  all  strange  if  —  " 
Marcello  hesitated. 

"If  what?" 

"If  I  married  Regina,"  said  Marcello  rather  des 
perately. 

Folco's  expression  changed  instantly. 

"  Was  that  the  question  you  were  going  to  ask  me  ?  " 
he  inquired. 

"  Yes." 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND  227 

Marcello  grew  very  red  and  smoked  so  fast  that  he 
choked  himself. 

"  Is  there  any  earthly  reason  why  you  should  marry 
her  ?  "  asked  Folco  very  quietly. 

"It  would  be  right,"  Marcello  answered,  gaining 
courage. 

"Yes,  yes,  undoubtedly,"  Folco  hastened  to  admit. 
"  In  principle  it  would  undoubtedly  be  right.  But  it 
is  a  very  serious  matter,  my  dear  boy.  It  means  your 
whole  life  and  future.  Have  you" — he  hesitated, 
with  an  affectation  of  delicacy  —  "  have  you  said  any 
thing  to  her  about  it  ?  " 

"I  used  to,  at  first,  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it. 
You  have  no  idea  how  simple  she  is,  and  how  little  she 
expects  anything  of  the  sort.  She  always  tells  me  that 
I  am  to  send  her  away  when  I  am  tired  of  her,  to  throw 
her  away  like  an  old  coat,  as  she  says  herself.  But  I 
could  never  do  that,  you  know.  Could  I  ?  " 

Marcello  blushed  again,  hardly  knowing  why.  Cor- 
bario  seemed  deeply  interested. 

44  She  must  be  a  very  unusual  sort  of  girl,"  he  ob 
served  thoughtfully.  "  There  are  not  many  like  her,  I 
fancy." 

"  There  is  nobody  like  her,"  Marcello  answered  with 
conviction.  "  That  is  why  I  want  to  marry  her.  I 
owe  it  to  her.  You  must  admit  that.  I  owe  her  my 
life,  for  I  certainly  should  have  died  if  she  had  not 
taken  care  of  me.  And  then,  there  is  the  rest.  She  has 
given  me  all  she  has,  and  that  is  herself,  and  she  asks 
nothing  in  return.  She  is  very  proud,  too.  I  tried 


228  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

to  make  her  accept  a  string  of  pearls  in  Paris,  just 
because  I  thought  they  would  be  becoming  to  her,  but 
she  absolutely  refused." 

"  Really  ?  I  suppose  you  gave  the  pearls  back  to  the 
jeweller?" 

"  No,  I  kept  them.  Perhaps  I  shall  get  her  to  wear 
them  some  day." 

Folco  smiled. 

"  You  may  just  as  well  encourage  her  simple  tastes," 
he  said.  "  Women  always  end  by  learning  how  to 
spend  money,  unless  it  is  their  own." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  tliis  piece  of  wisdom 
Folco  chose  a  cigar,  nipped  off  the  end  of  it  neatly  with 
a  gold  cutter,  lit  it  and  snuffed  the  rich  smoke  up  his 
nose  in  a  deliberate  manner. 

u  Regina  is  a  very  remarkable  woman,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  If  she  had  been  well  educated,  she  would  make 
an  admirable  wife  ;  and  she  loves  you  devotedly,  Mar- 
cello.  Now,  the  real  question  is  —  at  least,  it  seems  to 
me  so  —  you  don't  mind  my  talking  to  you  just  as  I 
would  to  myself,  do  you  ?  Very  well.  If  I  were  in 
your  position,  I  should  ask  myself,  as  a  man  of  honour, 
whether  I  really  loved  her  as  much  as  she  loved  me,  or 
whether  I  had  only  been  taken  off  my  feet  by  her 
beauty.  Don't  misunderstand  me,  my  boy  1  I  should 
feel  that  if  I  were  not  quite  sure  of  that,  1  ought  not  to 
marry  her,  because  it  would  be  much  worse  for  her  in 
the  end  than  if  we  parted.  Have  you  ever  asked  your 
self  that  question,  Marcello  ?  " 

-  Yes,  I  have." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  229 

Marcello  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  and  bent  his  head,  as 
if  he  were  not  sure  of  the  answer.  Corbario,  satisfied 
with  the  immediate  effect  of  his  satanic  speech,  waited 
a  moment,  sighed,  looked  down  at  his  cigar,  and  then 
went  on  in  gentle  tones. 

"  That  is  so  often  the  way,"  he  said.  "  A  man  marries 
a  woman  out  of  a  sense  of  duty,  and  then  makes  her 
miserably  unhappy,  quite  in  spite  of  himself.  Of 
course,  in  such  a  case  as  yours,  you  feel  that  you  owe  a 
woman  amends  —  you  cannot  call  it  compensation,  as  if 
it  were  a  matter  of  law !  She  has  given  everything, 
and  you  have  given  nothing.  You  owe  her  happiness, 
if  you  can  bestow  it  upon  her,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do  !  "  assented  Marcello. 

"  Yes.  The  question  is,  whether  the  way  to  make 
her  happy  is  to  marry  her,  when  you  have  a  reasonable 
doubt  as  to  whether  you  can  be  a  good  husband  to  her. 
That  is  the  real  problem,  it  seems  to  me.  Do  you  love 
her  enough  to  give  up  the  life  to  which  you  were  born, 
and  for  which  you  were  educated  ?  You  would  have 
to  do  that,  you  know.  Our  friends  —  your  dear 
mother's  friends,  my  boy  —  would  never  receive  her, 
least  of  all  after  what  has  happened." 

"I  know  it." 

"  You  would  have  to  wander  about  Europe,  or  live  in 
San  Domenico,  for  you  could  not  bear  to  live  in  Rome, 
meeting  women  who  would  not  bow  to  your  wife.  I 
know  you.  You  could  not  possibly  bear  it." 

"I  should  think  not!" 

44  No.     Therefore,  since  you  have  the  doubt,  since  you 


230  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

are  not  absolutely  sure  of  yourself,  I  think  the  only 
thing  to  do  is  to  find  out  what  you  really  feel,  before 
taking  an  irreparable  step." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marcello,  who  had  fallen  into  the  trap 
laid  for  him.  "  I  know  that.  But  how  am  I  to  make 
sure  of  myself?" 

"There  is  only  one  way,"  Folco  answered.  "I 
know  it  is  not  easy,  and  if  I  were  not  sure  that  you 
are  perfectly  sincere  I  should  be  afraid  to  propose  it 
to  you." 

"What  is  it?  Tell  me.  You  are  the  only  friend  I 
have  in  the  world,  Folco,  and  I  want  to  do  what  is 
right.  God  knows,  I  am  in  earnest!  There  are 
moments  when  I  cannot  imagine  living  without 
Regina  —  it  seemed  hard  to  leave  her  this  morning, 
even  for  these  few  hours,  and  I  long  to  be  back  at 
Pontresina  already !  Yet  you  know  how  fond  I  am 
of  you,  and  how  I  like  to  be  with  you,  for  we  have 
always  been  more  like  brothers  than  anything  else." 

"  Indeed  we  have  I "  Folco  assented  fervently. 
"You  were  saying  that  there  were  moments  — 
yes?" 

"Sometimes  she  jars  upon  me  dreadfully,"  Marcello 
said  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  he  were  ashamed  of  owning 
it.  "Then  I  want  to  get  away." 

"  Exactly.  You  want  to  get  away,  not  to  leave  her, 
but  to  be  alone  for  a  few  hours,  or  a  few  days.  That 
would  be  the  very  best  thing  you  could  do  —  to  sepa 
rate  for  a  little  while.  You  would  very  soon  find  out 
whether  you  could  live  without  her  or  not ;  and  believe 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  231 

me,  if  you  feel  that  you  can  live  without  her,  that  means 
that  you  could  not  live  with  her  for  your  whole  life." 

"  I  should  go  back  to  her  in  twenty-four  hours.  I 
am  sure  I  should." 

"  Perhaps  you  would,  if  you  went,  say,  from  here  to 
Paris  alone,  with  nothing  to  distract  your  attention. 
But  suppose  that  you  and  I  should  go  together,  to 
some  place  where  we  should  meet  our  friends,  all 
amusing  themselves,  where  you  could  talk  to  other 
women,  and  meet  men  of  your  own  age,  and  lead  the 
life  people  expect  you  to  lead,  just  for  a  few  weeks. 
You  know  that  society  will  be  only  too  glad  to  see 
something  of  you,  whenever  you  choose  to  go  near 
it.  You  are  what  is  called  a  good  match,  and  all 
the  mothers  with  marriageable  daughters  would  run 
after  you." 

"  Disgusting  !  "  exclaimed  Marcello,  with  contempt. 

"  No  doubt,  but  it  would  be  a  wholesome  change  and 
a  good  test.  When  a  young  girl  is  determined  to  be  a 
nun,  she  is  generally  made  to  spend  a  year  in  society, 
in  order  to  make  acquaintance  with  what  she  intends 
to  give  up.  I  don't  see  much  difference  between  that 
and  your  case.  Before  you  say  good-bye  for  ever  to 
your  own  world,  find  out  what  it  is  like.  At  the 
same  time,  you  will  settle  for  ever  any  doubts  you 
have  about  really  loving  Regina." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  It  would  only  be  for  a  few 
days." 

"And  besides,"  Folco  continued,  "if  you  have  not 
yet  found  it  dull  at  Pontresina,  you  certainly  will 


"232  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

before  long.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
lead  the  life  of  an  invalid,  for  you  are  quite  strong 
now." 

"  Oh,  quite.  I  always  tell  Regina  so,  but  she  insists 
that  I  am  too  thin,  and  it  amuses  her  to  take  care  of 
me." 

"  Naturally.  That  is  how  you  first  made  acquaint 
ance.  A  woman  who  has  once  taken  care  of  a  man 
she  loves  wants  him  to  be  ever  afterwards  an  invalid, 
for  ever  getting  better !  A  man  gets  tired  of  that  in 
time.  It  was  a  great  pity  you  left  Paris  just  when 
I  came,  for  there  are  many  things  we  could  have 
enjoyed  together  there." 

"  I  daresay,"  Marcello  answered,  not  paying  much 
attention  to  the  other's  words. 

"Take  my  advice,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Folco. 
"Come  away  with  me  for  a  few  days.  I  will  wait 
here  till  you  are  quite  ready,  for  of  course  you  can 
not  be  sure  of  getting  off  at  once.  You  will  have  to 
prepare  Regina  for  this." 

"Of  course.  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  possible  at 
all." 

Folco  laughed  gaily. 

"  Anything  is  possible  that  you  really  wish  to  do,"  he 
said. 

44  Regina  may  insist  upon  coming  with  me." 

"  Nonsense.  Women  always  submit  in  the  end,  and 
they  never  die  of  it.  Assert  yourself,  Marcello !  Be  a 
man  I  You  cannot  be  ordered  about  like  a  child  by  any 
woman,  not  even  if  she  has  saved  your  life,  not  even  if 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  233 

she  loves  you  to  distraction.  You  have  a  right  to  a 
will  of  your  own." 

"I  know.  And  yet  —  oh,  I  wish  I  knew  what  I 
ought  to  do  !  " 

"  Think  over  all  I  have  said,  and  you  will  see  that  I 
am  right,"  said  Folco,  rising  from  the  table.  "  And  if 
you  take  my  advice,  you  will  be  doing  what  is  fair  and 
honest  by  Regina  as  well  as  by  yourself.  Your  own 
conscience  must  tell  you  that." 

Poor  Marcello  was  not  very  sure  what  had  become 
of  his  own  conscience  during  the  past  year,  and  Folco's 
arguments  swayed  him  as  he  groped  for  something  defi 
nite  to  follow,  and  found  nothing  but  what  Corbario 
chose  to  thrust  into  his  hand. 

As  they  stood  by  the  table,  a  servant  brought  a  note 
on  a  little  salver,  holding  it  out  to  them  as  if  he  were 
not  sure  which  of  them  was  to  receive  it.  Both 
glanced  at  the  address ;  it  was  for  Corbario,  who  took 
it  quickly  and  put  it  into  his  pocket ;  but  Marcello  had 
recognised  the  handwriting  —  that  rather  cramped 
feminine  hand  of  a  woman  who  has  seen  better  days, 
in  which  Settimia  kept  accounts  for  Regina.  The 
latter  insisted  that  an  account  should  be  kept  of  the 
money  which  Marcello  gave  her,  and  that  he  should 
see  it  from  time  to  time.  At  the  first  moment,  being 
absorbed  with  other  matters,  and  inwardly  much 
engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  his  own  conscience,  which 
eluded  him  at  every  turn  like  a  figure  in  a  dream,  he 
paid  no  attention  to  what  he  had  seen ;  but  the  writ 
ing  had  impressed  itself  on  his  memory. 


L}  '>  I  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

They  had  been  lunching  in  Folco's  sitting-room,  and 
Corbario  made  an  excuse  to  go  into  his  bedroom  for  a 
moment,  saying  that  he  wanted  certain  cigars  that  his 
man  had  put  away.  Marcello  stood  at  the  window 
gazing  down  the  broad  valley.  Scarcely  a  minute 
elapsed  before  Folco  came  back  with  a  handful  of 
Havanas  which  he  dropped  on  a  writing-table. 

44  By  the  bye,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  there  is  another 
reason  why  you  may  not  care  to  stay  long  in  Pon- 
tresina.  The  Contessa  and  Aurora  are  there." 

"Are  they?"  Marcello  turned  sharply  as  he  asked 
the  question. 

He  was  surprised,  and  at  the  same  instant  it  flashed 
upon  him  that  Folco  had  just  received  the  information 
from  Settimia  in  the  note  that  had  been  brought. 

44  Yes,"  Folco  answered  with  a  smile.  "  And  Pon- 
tresina  is  such  a  small  place  that  you  can  hardly 
help  meeting  them.  I  thought  I  might  as  well  tell 
you." 

"Thank  you.  Yes,  it  would  be  awkward,  and  un 
pleasant  for  them." 

44  Precisely.  The  Contessa  wrote  me  that  she  and 
Aurora  had  come  upon  you  two  unexpectedly  in  leav 
ing  a  theatre,  and  that  she  had  felt  very  uncom 
fortable." 

44  Oh  !  I  suppose  she  suggested  that  I  should  mend 
my  ways  ?  " 

41  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  did."  Corbario  smiled. 
44 You  know  what  a  very  proper  person  she  is!  v 

"She  is  quite   right,"    answered    Marcello   gravely. 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  235 

"  It  certainly  cannot  have  been  pleasant  for  her,  on 
account  of  Aurora." 

Folco  looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  for  his  tone  had 
suddenly  changed. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  Folco  said,  "  I  think  I  will 
drive  up  with  you  and  call  on  them  this  afternoon. 
You  can  drop  me  at  their  hotel,  and  I  shall  find  my 
way  back  alone." 

"Certainly." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  don't  mind  ?  "  Folco  affected  to 
speak  anxiously. 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  You  see,"  Folco  said,  without  heeding  the  question, 
"  they  let  me  know  that  they  were  there,  and  as  we  are 
such  old  friends  it  would  be  strange  if  I  did  not  go  to 
see  them." 

"  Of  course  it  would,"  answered  Marcello  in  an  absent 
tone. 

He  already  connected  Folco's  knowledge  of  the  Con- 
tessa's  arrival  in  Pontresina  so  closely  with  Settimia's 
note  that  Folco's  last  statement  had  taken  him  by 
surprise,  and  a  multitude  of  confused  questions  pre 
sented  themselves  to  his  mind.  If  Settimia  had  not 
written  about  the  Contessa,  why  had  she  written  at 
all  ?  How  did  she  know  where  Corbario  was  stopping" 
in  Saint  Moritz?  Was  she  in  the  habit  of  writing  to 
him  ?  Corbario  had  found  her  for  Regina ;  was  Set 
timia  helping  Corbario  to  exercise  a  sort  of  paternal 
vigilance  over  him?  Somehow  Marcello  did  not  like 
that  idea  at  all.  So  far  as  he  knew,  Folco  had  always 


236  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

been  singularly  frank  with  him,  and  had  never  de 
ceived  him  in  the  smallest  thing,  even  "for  his  own 
good."  Marcello  could  only  attribute  good  motives 
to  him,  but  the  mere  idea  of  being  watched  was  exces 
sively  disagreeable.  He  wondered  whether  Settimia 
had  influenced  Regina  to  get  him  away  from  Paris, 
acting  under  directions  from  Corbario.  Was  Regina 
deceiving  him  too,  "  for  his  own  good  "  ?  If  there  is 
anything  a  man  cannot  bear  from  those  he  loves  best, 
it  is  that  they  should  take  counsel  together  secretly 
to  direct  him  "for  his  own  good." 

Marcello  tried  to  put  the  thought  out  of  his  mind  ; 
but  it  had  dawned  upon  him  for  the  first  time  that 
Folco  could  tell  even  a  pious  falsehood.  Yet  he  had  no 
proof  whatever  that  he  had  guessed  right ;  it  was  a  sud 
den  impression  and  nothing  more.  He  was  much  more 
silent  during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  as  he  drove  up 
to  Pontresina  with  Folco,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
had  at  last  touched  something  definite ;  which  was 
strange  enough,  considering  that  it  was  all  a  matter  of 
guess-work  and  doubt. 

And  now  fate  awoke  again  and  did  one  of  those  little 
things  that  decide  men's  lives.  If  Folco  and  Marcello 
had  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Contessa's  hotel  two 
minutes  earlier,  or  thirty  seconds  later,  than  they  did, 
they  would  not  have  chanced  upon  the  Contessa  and 
Aurora  just  coming  in  from  a  walk.  But  fate  brought 
the  four  together  precisely  at  that  moment.  As  the 
carriage  stopped,  the  two  ladies  had  come  from  the 
opposite  direction  and  were  on  the  door-step. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  237 

"  What  a  surprise  !  "  exclaimed  the  Contessa,  giving 
her  hand  graciously  to  Folco  and  then  to  Marcello. 

The  latter  had  got  hold  of  a  thread.  Since  the  Con 
tessa  was  surprised  to  see  Folco,  she  could  not  possibly 
have  already  let  him  know  that  she  was  in  Pontresina. 

"  I  came  as  soon  as  I  knew  that  you  were  here,"  said 
Corbario  quickly. 

Marcello  heard  the  words,  though  he  was  at  that 
moment  shaking  hands  with  Aurora,  and  their  eyes  had 
met.  She  was  perfectly  calm  and  collected,  none  the 
worse  for  her  adventure  in  the  morning,  and  consider 
ably  the  wiser. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ? "  asked  the  Contessa,  leading 
the  way,  as  if  expecting  both  men  to  follow. 

Corbario  went  at  once.  Marcello  hesitated,  and 
flushed  a  little,  and  Aurora  seemed  to  be  waiting  for 
him. 

"  Shall  I  come,  too  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  she  answered.  "  My  mother 
will  think  it  strange  if  you  don't." 

Marcello  bent  his  head,  and  the  two  followed  the 
others  towards  the  stairs  at  a  little  distance. 

"  Did  your  mother  send  word  to  Folco  that  you  were 
here  ?  "  asked  Marcello  quickly,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Not  that  I  know.     Why  ?  " 

"  It  is  no  matter.    I  wanted  to  be  sure.    Thank  you." 

They  went  upstairs  side  by  side,  not  even  glancing 
at  each  other,  much  more  anxious  to  seem  perfectly 
indifferent  than  to  realise  what  they  felt  now  that  they 
had  met  at  last. 


238  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

Marcello  stayed  ten  minutes  in  the  small  sitting-room, 
talking  as  well  as  he  could.  He  had  no  wish  to  be 
alone  with  Aurora  or  her  mother,  and  since  the  visit 
had  been  pressed  upon  him  he  was  glad  that  Folco  was 
present.  But  he  got  away  as  soon  as  he  could,  leaving 
Corbario  to  his  own  devices.  The  Contessa  gave  him 
her  hand  quietly,  as  if  she  had  not  expected  him  to 
stay,  and  she  did  not  ask  him  to  come  again.  Aurora 
merely  nodded  to  him,  and  he  saw  that  just  as  he  went 
out  she  left  the  room  by  another  door,  after  glancing 
at  him  once  more  with  apparent  coldness. 

He  walked  quickly  through  the  village  until  he  came 
near  to  his  own  hotel,  and  then  his  pace  slackened  by 
degrees.  He  knew  that  he  had  felt  a  strong  emotion  in 
seeing  Aurora  again,  and  he  was  already  wishing  that 
he  had  not  come  away  so  soon.  The  room  had  been 
small,  and  it  had  been  uncomfortable  to  be  there,  feeling 
himself  judged  and  condemned  by  the  Contessa  and 
distrusted  by  Aurora ;  but  he  had  been  in  an  atmos 
phere  that  recalled  all  his  youth,  with  people  whose 
mere  presence  together  brought  back  the  memory  of  his 
dead  mother  as  nothing  else  had  done  since  his  illness. 
He  was  just  in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  he  would 
have  broken  away  and  freed  himself  within  the  hour, 
at  any  cost,  if  he  had  been  involved  in  a  common 
intrigue. 

At  the  samr  time  he  had  become  convinced  that  Folco 
had  deceived  him,  for  some  reason  or  other  which  he 
could  not  guess,  and  the  knowledge  was  the  first  serious 
disillusionment  of  his  life.  The  deception  had  been 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  239 

small,  and  perhaps  intended  in  some  mysterious  way  to 
be  "  for  his  own  good "  ;  but  it  had  been  a  distinct 
deception  and  no  better  than  a  lie.  He  was  sure  of 
that. 

He  went  upstairs  slowly  and  Regina  met  him  at  the 
door  of  their  rooms,  and  took  his  hat  and  stick  without 
a  word,  for  she  saw  that  something  had  happened,  and 
she  felt  suddenly  cold.  He  was  quite  unlike  himself. 
The  careless  look  was  gone  from  his  face,  his  young  lips 
were  tightly  closed,  and  he  looked  straight  before  him, 
quite  unconscious  that  his  manner  was  hurting  her 
desperately. 

"  Has  Settimia  been  out  to-day  ? "  he  asked,  looking 
at  her  quickly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  surprised.  "  I  went 
for  a  long  walk  this  morning.  She  probably  went  out 
into  the  village.  I  cannot  tell.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"I  wish  to  know  whether  she  sent  a  note  to  Saint 
Moritz  by  a  messenger.  Can  you  find  out,  without 
asking  her  a  direct  question?  I  am  very  anxious  to 
know. " 

"  I  will  try,  but  it  will  not  be  easy,"  said  Regina, 
watching  him. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  that  the  blow  was  coming, 
and  that  Marcello  was  only  putting  off  the  moment 
when  she  must  be  told  that  he  meant  to  'leave  her. 
She  was  very  quiet,  and  waited  for  him  to  speak  again, 
for  she  was  too  proud  to  ask  him  questions.  His  in 
quiry  about  Settimia  was  in  some  way  connected  with 
what  was  to  come.  He  sat  down  by  the  table,  and 


240  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

drummed  upon  it  absently  with  his  fingers  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  looked  up  suddenly  and  met  her 
eyes ;  his  look  of  troubled  preoccupation  faded  all  at 
once,  and  he  smiled  and  held  out  one  hand  to  draw  her 
nearer. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said.  "  All  sorts  of  things  have 
happened  to-day.  I  have  been  annoyed." 

She  came  and  bent  over  him,  turning  his  face  up  to 
hers  with  her  hands,  very  gently.  His  eyes  lightened 
slowly,  and  his  lips  parted  a  little. 

"You  are  not  tired  of  Regina  yet,"  she  said. 

"  No  !  "  he  laughed.  "  But  you  were  right,"  he 
added,  almost  immediately. 

"  I  knew  I  was,"  she  answered,  but  not  as  she  had 
expected  to  say  the  words  when  she  had  seen  him 
come  in. 

She  dared  not  hope  to  keep  him  always,  but  she  had 
not  lost  him  yet,  and  that  was  enough  for  the  moment. 
The  weight  had  fallen  from  her  heart,  and  the  pain  was 
gone. 

K  Was  it  what  I  thought?"  she  asked  softly.  "Does 
your  stepfather  wish  to  separate  us?" 

"  For  a  little  while,"  Marcello  answered.  "  He  says 
we  ought  to  part  for  a  few  weeks,  so  that  I  may  find 
out  whether  I  love  you  enough  to  marry  you  !  " 

44  And  he  almost  persuaded  you  that  he  was  right," 
said  Regina.  "  Is  that  what  happened  ?  " 

"That  —  and  something  else." 

M  Will  you  tell  me,  heart  of  my  heart?" 

In  tin-  falling  twilight  he  told  her  all  that  had  passed 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  241 

through  his  mind,  from  the  moment  when  he  had  seen 
Settimia's  handwriting  on  the  note.  Then  Regina's 
lips  moved. 

"  He  shall  pay  ! "  she  was  saying  under  her  breath. 
"  He  shall  pay  !  " 

"What  are  you  saying?"  Marcello  asked. 

"An  Ave  Maria,"  she  answered.  "It  is  almost 
dark." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  little  house  in  Trastevere  was  shut  up,  but 
the  gardener  had  the  keys,  and  came  twice  a  week 
to  air  the  rooms  and  sweep  the  paths  and  water  the 
shrubs.  He  was  to  be  informed  by  Settimia  of 
Regina's  return  in  time  to  have  everything  ready, 
but  he  did  not  expect  any  news  before  the  end  of 
September ;  and  if  he  came  regularly,  on  Tuesday  and 
Saturday,  and  did  his  work,  it  was  because  he  was  a 
conscientious  person  in  his  way,  elderly,  neat,  and 
systematic,  a  good  sort  of  Roman  of  the  old  breed. 
But  if  he  came  on  other  days,  as  he  often  did,  not  to 
air  the  rooms,  but  to  water  and  tend  certain  plants, 
and  to  do  the  many  incomprehensible  things  which 
gardeners  do  with  flower-pots,  earth,  and  seeds,  that 
was  his  own  affair,  and  would  bring  a  little  money 
in  the  autumn  when  the  small  florists  opened  their 
shops  and  stands  again,  and  the  tide  of  foreigners  set 
once  more  towards  Rome.  Also,  if  he  had  made 
friends  with  the  gardeners  at  the  beautiful  villa  on 
the  Janiculum,  that  was  not  Corbario's  business ;  and 
they  gave  him  cuttings,  and  odds  and  ends,  such  as 
can  be  spared  from  a  great  garden  where  money  is 
spent  generously,  but  which  mean  a  great  deal  to  a 
poor  man  who  is  anxious  to  turn  an  honest  penny 
by  hard  work. 

212 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  243 

The  immediate  result  of  this  little  traffic  was  that 
the  gardeners  at  the  villa  knew  all  about  the  little 
house  in  Trastevere ;  and  what  the  gardeners  knew 
was  known  also  by  the  porter,  and  by  the  other  ser 
vants,  and  through  them  by  the  servants  of  other 
people,  and  the  confidential  valet  told  his  master,  and 
the  maid  told  her  mistress ;  and  so  everybody  had 
learned  where  "  Consalvi's  Regina  "  lived,  and  it  was 
likely  that  everybody  would  know  when  she  came 
back  to  Rome,  and  whether  Marcello  came  with  her 
or  not. 

He  had  not  taken  Folco's  advice,  much  to  the  latter's 
disappointment  and  annoyance.  On  the  contrary,  he 
and  Regina  had  left  the  Engadine  very  suddenly, 
without  so  much  as  letting  Corbario  guess  that  they 
were  going  away;  and  Regina  had  managed  to  keep 
Settimia  so  very  busy  and  so  constantly  under  her 
eye  that  the  maid  had  not  been  able  to  send  Folco 
a  word,  warning  him  of  the  anticipated  move.  Al 
most  for  the  first  time  Marcello  had  made  up  his 
mind  for  himself,  and  had  acted  upon  his  decision; 
and  it  seemed  as  if  the  exercise  of  his  will  had  made  a 
change  in  his  character. 

They  wandered  from  place  to  place  ;  they  went  to 
Venice  in  the  hottest  season,  when  no  one  was  there, 
and  they  came  down  to  Florence  and  drove  up  to 
Vallombrosa,  where  they  stumbled  upon  society,  and 
were  stared  at  accordingly.  They  went  down  to 
Siena,  they  stopped  in  Orvieto,  and  drove  across  to 
Assisi  and  Perugia;  but  they  were  perpetually  drawn 


244  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

towards  Rome,  and  knew  that  they  longed  to  be  there 
again. 

Marcello  had  plenty  of  time  to  think,  and  there  was 
little  to  disturb  his  meditations  on  the  past  and  future  ; 
for  Regina  was  not  talkative,  and  was  content  to  be 
silent  for  hours,  provided  that  she  could  see  his  face. 
He  never  knew  whether  she  felt  h'er  ignorance  about  all 
they  saw,  and  his  own  knowledge  was  by  no  means 
great.  He  told  her  what  he  knew  and  read  about 
places  they  visited,  and  she  remembered  what  he  said, 
and  sometimes  asked  simple  questions  which  he  could 
answer  easily  enough.  For  instance,  she  wished  to 
know  whether  America  were  a  city  or  an  island,  and 
who  the  Jews  were,  and  if  the  sun  rose  in  the  west  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world,  since  Marcello  assured  her 
that  the  world  was  round. 

He  was  neither  shocked  nor  amused  ;  Ercole  had 
asked  him  similar  questions  when  he  had  been  a  boy  ; 
so  had  the  peasants  in  Calabria,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  Regina  should  know  more  than  they  did. 
Besides,  she  possessed  wonderful  tact,  and  now  spoke 
her  own  language  so  well  that  she  could  pass  for  a  per 
son  of  average  education,  so  long  as  she  avoided  speak 
ing  of  anything  that  is  learned  from  books.  She  was 
very  quick  to  understand  everything  connected  with 
the  people  she  heard  of,  and  she  never  forgot  anything 
that  Marcello  told  her.  She  was  grateful  to  him  for 
never  laughing  at  her,  but  in  reality  he  was  indifferent. 
If  she  had  known  everything  within  bounds  of  know 
ledge,  she  would  not  have  been  a  whit  more  beautiful,  or 
more  loving,  or  more  womanly. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  245 

But  he  himself  was  beginning  to  think,  now  that  his 
faith  in  Folco  had  been  shaken,  and  he  began  to  realise 
that  he  had  been  strangely  torpid  and  morally  listless 
during  the  past  years.  The  shock  his  whole  system  had 
received,  the  long  interval  during  which  his  memory 
had  been  quite  gone,  the  physical  languor  that  had 
lasted  some  time  after  his  recovery  from  the  fever,  had 
all  combined  to  make  the  near  past  seem  infinitely 
remote,  to  cloud  his  judgment  of  reality,  and  to  destroy 
the  healthy  tension  of  his  natural  will.  A  good  deal 
of  what  Corbario  had  called  "harmless  dissipation" 
had  made  matters  worse,  and  when  Regina  had  per 
suaded  him  to  leave  Paris  he  had  really  been  in  that 
dangerous  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical  condition 
in  which  it  takes  very  little  to  send  a  man  to  the 
bad  altogether,  and  not  much  more  to  kill  him  out 
right,  if  he  be  of  a  delicate  constitution  and  still  very 
young.  Corbario  had  almost  succeeded  in  his  work 
of  destruction. 

He  would  not  succeed  now,  for  the  worst  danger  was 
past,  and  Marcello  had  found  his  feet  after  being 
almost  lost  in  the  quicksand  through  which  he  had 
been  led. 

He  had  not  at  first  accused  Folco  of  anything  worse 
than  that  one  little  deception  about  the  arrival  of  the 
Contessa,  and  of  having  caused  him  to  be  too  closely 
watched  by  Settimia.  Little  by  little,  however,  other 
possibilities  had  shaped  themselves  and  had  grown  into 
certainties  at  an  alarming  rate.  He  understood  all  at 
once  how  Folco  himself  had  been  spending  his  time, 


246  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

while  society  had  supposed  him  to  be  a  broken  -hearted 
widower.  A  few  hints  which  he  had  let  fall  about  the 
things  he  would  have  shown  Marcello  in  Paris  sug 
gested  a  great  deal ;  his  looks  and  manner  told  the 
rest,  now  that  Marcello  had  guessed  the  main  truth. 
He  had  not  waited  three  months  after  his  wife's  death 
to  profit  by  his  liberty  and  the  wealth  she  had  left  him. 
Marcello  remembered  the  addresses  he  had  given  from 
time  to  time —  Monte  Carlo,  Hombourg,  Pau,  and  Paris 
very  often.  He  had  spoken  of  business  in  his  letters, 
as  an  excuse  for  moving  about  so  much,  but  "  business  " 
did  not  always  take  a  man  to  places  of  amusement,  and 
Folco  seemed  to  have  visited  no  others.  Men  whom 
Marcello  had  met  had  seen  Corbario,  and  what  they 
said  about  him  was  by  no  means  indefinite.  He  had 
been  amusing  himself,  and  not  alone,  and  the  young 
men  had  laughed  at  his  attempts  to  cloak  his  doings 
under  an  appearance  of  sorrowing  respectability. 

As  all  this  became  clear  to  Marcello  he  suffered 
acutely  at  times,  and  he  reproached  himself  bitterly  for 
having  been  so  long  blind  and  indifferent.  It  \v;is  bad 
enough  that  he  should  have  been  leading  a  wild  life 
with  Regina  in  Paris  within  a  few  months  of  his 
mother's  death,  but  even  in  the  depths  of  his  self- 
reproach  he  saw  how  much  worse  it  was  that  Folco 
should  have  forgotten  her  so  soon.  It  was  worse  than 
a  slight  upon  his  mother's  memory,  it  was  an  insult. 
The  good  woman  who  was  gone  would  have  shed  hot 
tears  if  she  could  have  come  to  life  and  seen  how  her 
son  was  living ;  but  she  would  have  died  again,  could 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  247 

she  have  seen  the  husband  she  adored  in  the  places 
where  many  had  seen  him  since  her  death.  It  was  no 
wonder  that  Mar  cello's  anger  rose  at  the  mere  thought. 

Moreover,  as  Marcello's  understanding  awoke,  he 
realised  that  Folco  had  encouraged  him  in  all  he  had 
done,  and  had  not  seemed  pleased  when  he  had  begun 
to  live  more  quietly.  Folco  would  have  made  him  his 
companion  in  pleasure,  if  he  could,  and  the  idea  was 
horrible  to  Marcello  as  soon  as  it  presented  itself. 

It  was  the  discovery  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in 
Corbario  that  most  directly  helped  him  to  regain  his 
foothold  in  life  and  his  free  will.  There  was  more  in 
the  Spartan  method  than  we  are  always  ready  to  admit, 
for  it  is  easier  to  disgust  most  men  by  the  sight  of 
human  degradation  than  to  strengthen  them  against 
temptation  by  preaching,  or  by  the  lessons  of  example 
which  are  so  very  peculiarly  disagreeable  to  the  normal 
man. 

"  I  am  virtuous,  I  am  sober,  I  resist  temptation, 
imitate  me  ! "  cries  the  preacher.  You  say  that  you 
are  virtuous,  and  you  are  apparently  sober,  my  friend  ; 
and  perhaps  you  are  a  very  good  man,  though  you  need 
not  scream  out  the  statement  at  the  top  of  your  voice. 
But  how  are  we  to  know  that  you  have  any  tempta 
tions  to  resist  ?  Or  that  your  temptations  are  the 
same  as  ours,  even  supposing  that  you  have  any  ?  Or 
that  you  are  speaking  the  truth  about  yourself,  since 
what  you  say  is  so  extremely  flattering  to  your 
vanity  ?  Wherever  there  is  preaching,  those  who  are 
preached  at  are  expected  to  accept  a  good  deal  on 


248  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

the  mere  word  of  the  preacher,  quite  aside  from  any 
thing  they  have  been  brought  to  believe  elsewhere. 

"  Temptation  ? "  said  a  certain  great  lady  who  was 
not  strong  in  theology.  "  That  is  what  one  yields  to, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

She  probably  knew  what  she  was  talking  about,  for 
she  had  lived  in  the  world  a  good  while,  as  we  have. 
But  the  preacher  is  not  very  often  one  of  us,  and  he 
knows  little  of  our  ways  and  next  to  nothing  of  our  real 
feelings  ;  yet  he  exhorts  us  to  be  like  him.  It  would 
be  very  odd  if  we  succeeded.  The  world  would  prob 
ably  stand  still  if  we  did,  and  most  of  us  are  so  well 
aware  of  the  fact  that  we  do  not  even  try  ;  and  the  ser 
mon  simply  has  no  effect  at  all,  which  need  not  prevent 
the  preacher  from  being  richly  remunerated  for  deliver 
ing  it. 

"  Vice  is  very  attractive,  of  course,"  he  says,  "  but 
you  must  avoid  it  because  it  is  sinful." 

And  every  time  vice  is  mentioned  we  think  how 
attractive  it  must  be,  since  it  is  necessary  to  preach 
against  it  so  much  ;  and  the  more  attractive  it  seems, 
the  greater  the  temptation. 

"  Should  you  like  to  try  a  vice  or  two  ?  "  said  the 
Spartan.  "  Very  well.  Come  with  me,  my  boy,  and 
you  shall  see  what  vice  is  ;  and  after  that,  if  you  care 
to  try  it,  please  yourself,  for  I  shall  have  nothing  more 
to  say  I " 

And  forthwith  he  played  upon  the  string  of  disgust, 
which  is  the  most  sensitive  of  all  the  strings  that  vibrate 
in  the  great  human  instrument ;  and  the  boy's  stomach 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  249 

rose,  and  he  sickened  and  turned  away,  and  remem 
bered  for  ever,  though  he  might  try  ever  so  hard  to 
forget. 

Marcello  at  last  saw  Folco  as  he  was,  though  still 
without  understanding  the  worst,  and  with  no  suspicion 
that  Folco  wished  him  out  of  the  world,  and  had  delib 
erately  set  to  work  to  kill  him  by  dissipation  ;  and  the 
disgust  he  felt  was  the  most  horrible  sensation  that  he 
could  remember.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  himself 
and  his  whole  life,  and  the  perplexity  of  his  position 
frightened  him. 

It  seemed  impossible  to  go  back  and  live  under  the 
same  roof  with  Corbario  now.  He  flushed  with  shame 
when  he  remembered  the  luncheon  at  Saint  Moritz,  and 
how  he  had  been  almost  persuaded  to  leave  poor  Regina 
suddenly,  and  to  go  back  to  Paris  with  his  stepfather. 
He  saw  through  the  devilish  cleverness  of  the  man's 
arguments,  and  when  he  remembered  that  his  dead 
mother's  name  had  been  spoken,  a  thrill  of  real  pain 
ran  through  his  body  and  he  clenched  his  teeth  and 
his  hands. 

He  asked  himself  how  he  could  meet  Folco  after  that, 
and  the  only  answer  was  that  if  they  met  they  must 
quarrel  and  part,  not  to  meet  again. 

He  told  Regina  that  he  would  not  go  back  to  the 
villa  after  they  reached  Rome,  but  would  live  in  the 
little  house  in  Trastevere.  To  his  surprise,  she  looked 
grave  and  shook  her  head.  She  had  never  asked  him 
what  was  making  him  so  silent  and  thoughtful,  but  she 
had  guessed  much  of  the  truth  from  little  things  ;  she 


250  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

herself  had  never  trusted  Corbario  since  she  had  first 
seen  his  face  at  the  hospital,  and  she  had  long  foreseen 
the  coming  struggle. 

"  Why  do  you  shake  your  head  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Do 
you  not  want  me  at  the  little  house  ?  " 

"  The  villa  is  yours,  not  his,"  she  said.  "  He  will  be 
glad  if  you  will  leave  him  there,  for  he  will  be  the  mus 
ter.  Then  he  will  marry  again,  and  live  there,  and  it 
will  be  hard  to  turn  him  out." 

44  What  makes  you  think  he  wishes  to  marry  again  ?  " 

44  He  would  be  married  already,  if  the  girl  would  have 
him,"  answered  Regina. 

44  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

44  You  told  me  to  watch,  to  find  out.  I  have  obeyed 
you.  I  know  everything." 

Marcello  was  surprised,  and  did  not  quite  under 
stand.  He  only  remembered  that  he  had  asked  her  to 
ascertain  whether  Settimia  had  sent  a  note  to  Folco  at 
Saint  Moritz.  After  a  day  or  two  she  told  him  that 
she  was  quite  sure  of  it.  That  was  all,  and  Regina  had 
scarcely  ever  spoken  of  Folco  since  then.  Marcello 
reminded  her  of  this,  and  asked  her  what  she  had  done. 

44 1  can  read,"  she  said.  "I  can  read  writing,  and 
that  is  very  hard,  you  know.  I  made  Settimia  teach 
me.  I  said  with  myself,  if  he  should  be  away  and 
should  write  to  me,  what  should  I  do  ?  I  could  not  let 
Settimia  read  his  letters,  and  I  am  too  well  dressed  to 
go  to  a  public  letter-writer  in  the  street,  as  the  peasants 
do.  He  would  think  me  an  ignorant  person,  and  the 
people  in  the  street  would  laugh.  That  would  not 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  251 

help  me.  I  should  have  to  go  to  the  priest,  to  my 
confessor." 

"  Your  confessor  ?     Do  you  go  to  confession  ?  " 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  Turk  ?  "  Regina  asked,  laugh 
ing.  "  I  go  to  confession  at  Christmas  and  Easter.  I 
tell  the  priest  that  I  am  very  bad,  and  am  sorry,  but 
that  it  is  for  you  and  that  I  cannot  help  it.  Then  he 
asks  me  if  I  will  promise  to  leave1  you  and  be  good. 
And  I  say  no,  that  I  will  not  promise  that.  And  he 
tells  me  to  go  away  and  come  back  when  I  am  ready 
to  promise,  and  that  he  will  give  me  absolution  then. 
It  is  always  the  same.  He  shakes  his  head  and  frowns 
when  he  sees  me  coming,  and  I  smile.  We  know  each 
other  quite  well  now.  I  have  told  him  that  when  you 
are  tired  of  me,  then  I  will  be  good.  Is  not  that 
enough  ?  What  can  I  do  ?  I  should  like  to  be  good, 
of  course,  but  I  like  still  better  to  be  with  you.  So 
it  is." 

"  You  are  better  than  the  priest  knows,"  said  Mar- 
cello  thoughtfully,  "and  I  am  worse." 

"  It  is  not  true.  But  if  I  had  a  letter  from  you,  I 
would  not  take  it  to  the  priest  to  read  for  me.  He 
would  be  angry,  and  tear  it  up,  and  send  me  away.  I 
understood  this  at  the  beginning,  so  I  made  Settimia 
teach  me  how  to  read  the  writing,  and  I  also  learned 
to  write  myself,  not  very  well,  but  one  can  understand 
it." 

"I  know.  I  have  seen  you  writing  copies.  But 
how  has  that  helped  you  to  find  out  what  Folco  is 
doing  ?  " 


252  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  I  read  all  Settiraia's  letters,"  Regina  answered,  with 
perfect  simplicity. 

"  Eh  ?  "    Marcello  thought  he  had  misunderstood  her. 

"I  read  all  the  letters  she  gets,"  Regina  replied, 
unmoved.  "  When  she  was  teaching  me  to  read  I 
saw  where  she  kept  all  her  letters.  It  is  always  the 
same  place.  There  is  a  pocket  inside  a  little  black 
bag  she  has,  which  opens  easily,  though  she  locks  it. 
She  puts  the  letters  there,  and  when  she  has  read  them 
over  she  burns  them.  You  see,  she  has  no  idea  that 
I  read  them.  But  I  always  do,  ever  since  you  asked 
me  about  that  note.  When  I  know  that  she  has  had 
a  letter,  I  send  her  out  on  an  errand.  Then  I  read. 
It  is  so  easy  !  " 

Regina  laughed,  but  Marcello  looked  displeased. 

44  It  is  not  honest  to  do  such  things,"  he  said. 

44  Not  honest  ?  "  Regina  stared  at  him  in  amaze 
ment.  "  How  does  honesty  enter  into  the  question  ? 
Is  Settimia  honest  ?  Then  honest  people  should  all 
be  in  the  galleys  !  And  if  you  knew  how  he  writes 
to  her!  Oh,  yes!  You  are  the  'dear  patient,'  and 
I  am  the  'admirable  companion.'  They  have  known 
each  other  long,  those  two.  They  have  a  language 
between  them,  but  I  have  learned  it.  They  have  no 
more  secrets  that  I  do  not  know.  Everything  the 
admirable  companion  does  that  makes  the  dear  patient 
better  is  wrong,  and  everything  that  used  to  make 
him  worse  was  right.  They  were  killing  you  in  Paris, 
they  wanted  you  to  stay  there  until  you  were  dead. 
Do  you  know  who  saved  your  life?  It  was  the 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  253- 

Contessa,  when  I  heard  her  say  that  you  were  looking' 
ill  !  If  you  ever  see  her  again,  thank  her,  for  I  was 
blind  and  she  opened  my  eyes.  The  devil  had  blinded 
me,  and  the  pleasure,  and  I  could  not  see.  I  see  now, 
thanks  to  heaven,  and  I  know  all,  and  they  shall  not 
hurt  you.  But  they  shall  pay  !  " 

She  was  not  laughing  now,  as  she  said  the  last 
words  under  her  breath,  and  her  beautiful  lips  just 
showed  her  white  teeth,  set  savagely  tight  as  though 
they  had  bitten  through  something  that  could  be 
killed.  Folco  Corbario  was  not  timid,  but  if  he  had 
seen  her  then,  and  known  that  the  imaginary  bite 
was  meant  for  his  life,  he  would  have  taken  special 
care  of  his  bodily  safety  whenever  she  was  in  his 
neighbourhood. 

Marcello  had  listened  in  profound  surprise,  for  what 
she  said  threw  new  light  on  all  he  had  thought  out  for 
himself  of  late. 

"Arid  you  say  that  Folco  is  thinking  of  marrying 
again,"  he  said,  almost  ashamed  to  profit  by  informa 
tion  obtained  as  Regina  had  got  it. 

"  Yes,  he  is  in  love  with  a  young  girl,  and  wishes 
to  marry  her." 

Marcello  said  nothing. 

"  Should  you  like  to  know  her  name  ? "  asked 
Regina. 

Still  Marcello  was  silent,  as  if  refusing  to  answer, 
and  yet  wishing  that  she  should  go  on. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  Regina  said.  "Her  name  is 
Aurora  dell'  Armi." 


•J.")4  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

M;ircello  started,  and  looked  into  her  face,  doubting 
her  word  for  the  first  time.  He  changed  colour,  too, 
flushing  and  then  turning  pale. 

"  It  is  not  true  !  "  he  cried,  rather  hoarsely.  "  It 
cannot  be  true  !  " 

"It  is  true,"  Regina  answered,  "but  she  will  not 
have  him.  She  would  not  many  him,  even  if  her 
mother  would  allow  it." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  exclaimed  Marcello  fervently. 

Regina  sighed,  and  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ERCOLE  sat  on  the  stone  seat  that  ran  along  the  wall 
of  the  inn,  facing  the  dusty  road.  He  was  waiting  in 
the  cool  dawn  until  it  should  please  the  innkeeper  to 
open  the  door,  and  Nino  crouched  beside  him,  his  head 
resting  on  his  forepaws. 

A  great  many  years  had  passed  since  Ercole  had  sat 
there  the  last  time,  but  nothing  had  changed,  so  far  as 
he  could  see.  He  had  been  young,  and  the  women  had 
called  him  handsome  ;  his  face  had  not  been  shrivelled 
to  parchment  by  the  fever,  and  there  had  been  no  grey 
threads  in  his  thick  black  hair.  Nino  had  not  been 
born  then,  and  now  Nino  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  him 
self.  Nino's  grandam  had  lain  in  almost  the  same  spot 
then,  wolfish  and  hungry  as  her  descendant  was  now, 
and  only  a  trifle  less  uncannily  hideous.  It  was  all 
very  much  the  same,  but  between  that  time  and  this 
there  lay  all  Ercole's  life  by  the  Roman  shore. 

When  he  had  heard,  as  every  one  had,  how  Marcello 
had  been  brought  to  Rome  on  the  tail  of  a  wine-cart,  he 
had  been  sure  that  the  boy  had  been  laid  upon  it  while 
the  cart  was  standing  before  Paoluccio's  inn  in  the 
night.  He  knew  the  road  well,  and  the  ways  of  the 
carters,  and  that  they  rarely  stopped  anywhere  else  be 
tween  Frascati  and  Rome.  Again  and  again  he  had 

265 


256  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

been  on  the  point  of  tramping  up  from  the  seashore  to 
the  place,  to  see  whether  he  could  not  find  some  clue 
to  Marcello's  accident  there,  but  something  had  pre 
vented  him,  some  old  dislike  of  returning  to  the  neigh 
bourhood  after  such  a  long  absence.  He  knew  why  he 
had  not  gone,  but  he  had  not  confided  the  reason  even 
to  Nino,  who  was  told  most  things.  He  had,  moreover, 
been  tolerably  sure  that  nothing  short  of  thumb-screws 
would  extract  any  information  from  Paoluccio  or  his 
wife,  for  he  knew  his  own  people.  The  only  thing 
that  surprised  him  was  that  the  boy  should  ever  have 
left  the  inn  alive  after  being  robbed  of  everything  he 
had  about  him  that  was  worth  taking. 

Moreover,  since  Marcello  had  been  found,  and  was 
alive  and  well,  it  was  of  very  little  use  to  try  and  dis 
cover  exactly  what  had  happened  to  him  after  he  had 
been  last  seen  by  the  shore.  But  the  aspect  of  things 
had  changed  since  Ercole  had  heard  the  sailor's  story, 
and  his  wish  to  see  the  place  where  the  boy  had  been 
hidden  so  long  overcame  any  repugnance  he  felt  to 
visiting  a  neighbourhood  which  had  unpleasant  associa 
tions  with  his  younger  years. 

He  sat  and  waited  at  the  door,  and  before  the 
Bun  rose  a  young  woman  came  round  the  house  with 
the  big  key  and  opened  the  place,  just  as  Regina  had 
done  in  old  days.  She  looked  at  Ercole,  and  he  looked 
at  her,  and  neither  said  anything  as  she  went  about  her 
work,  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water  and  then  sweep 
ing  it,  and  noisily  pulling  the  heavy  benches  about. 
When  this  operation  was  finished,  Ercole  rose  and  went 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  257 

in,  and  sat  down  at  the  end  of  a  table.  He  took  some 
bread  and  cheese  from  his  canvas  bag  and  began  to  eat, 
using  his  clasp-knife. 

"  If  you  wish  wine,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  will  have 
to  wait  till  the  master  comes  down." 

Ercole  only  answered  by  raising  his  head  and  throw 
ing  out  his  chin,  which  means  "  no  "  in  gesture  language. 
He  threw  pieces  of  the  bread  and  the  rind  of  the  cheese 
to  his  dog.  Nino  caught  each  fragment  in  the  air  with 
a  snap  that  would  have  lamed  a  horse  for  a  month. 
The  woman  glanced  nervously  at  the  animal,  each  time 
she  heard  his  jagged  teeth  close. 

Paoluccio  appeared  in  due  time,  without  coat  or 
waistcoat,  and  with  his  sleeves  rolled  up  above  the 
elbows,  as  if  he  had  been  washing.  If  he  had,  the  oper 
ation  had  succeeded  very  imperfectly.  He  glanced  at 
Ercole  as  he  passed  in. 

44  Good-morning,"  he  said,  for  he  made  it  a  point  to 
be  polite  to  customers,  even  when  they  brought  their 
own  food. 

44  Good-morning,"  answered  Ercole,  looking  at  him 
curiously. 

Possibly  there  was  something  unusual  in  the  tone 
of  Ercole's  voice,  for  Nino  suddenly  sat  up  beside 
his  master's  knee,  forgetting  all  about  the  bread,  and 
watched  Paoluccio  too,  as  if  he  expected  something. 
But  nothing  happened.  Paoluccio  opened  a  cupboard 
in  the  wall  with  a  key  he  carried,  took  oat  a  bottle  of 
the  coarse  aniseed  spirits  which  the  Roman  peasants 
drink,  and  filled  himself  a  small  glass  of  the  stuff,  which 


258  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

he  tossed  off  with  evident  pleasure.  Then  he  filled  his 
pipe,  lit  it  carefully,  and  went  to  the  door  again.  By 
this  time,  though  he  had  apparently  not  bestowed  the 
least  attention  on  Ercole,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  about 
him,  and  was  not  mistaken.  Ercole  belonged  to  the 
better  class  of  customers. 

"  You  come  from  the  Roman  shore  ?  "  he  said,  with 
an  interrogation. 

"  To  serve  you,"  Ercole  assented,  with  evident  will 
ingness  to  enter  into  conversation.  "  I  am  a  keeper 
and  watchman  on  the  lands  of  Signor  Corbario." 

Paoluccio  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  nodded 
twice. 

"  That  is  a  very  rich  gentleman,  I  have  heard,"  he 
observed.  "  He  owns  much  land." 

"  It  all  belongs  to  his  stepson,  now  that  the  young 
gentleman  is  of  age,"  Ercole  answered.  "  But  as  it 
was  his  mother's,  and  she  married  Signor  Corbario,  we 
have  the  habit  of  the  name." 

44  What  is  the  name  of  the  stepson  ?  "  asked  Paoluccio. 

"  Consalvi,"  Ercole  replied. 

Paoluccio  said  nothing  to  this,  but  lit  his  pipe  again 
with  a  sulphur  match. 

"  Evil  befall  the  soul  of  our  government !  "  he  grum 
bled  presently,  with  insufficient  logic,  but  meaning  that 
the  government  sold  bad  tobacco. 

"  You  must  have  heard  of  the  young  gentleman," 
Ercole  said.  "  His  name  is  Marcello  Consalvi.  They 
say  that  he  lay  ill  for  a  long  time  at  an  inn  on  this 
road—" 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  259 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven,  don't  talk  to  me  about  Mar- 
cello  Consalvi  !  "  cried  Paoluccio,  suddenly  in  a  fury. 
"  Blood  of  a  dog  !  If  you  had  not  the  face  of  an  honest 
man  I  should  think  you  were  another  of  those  news 
paper  men  in  disguise,  pigs  and  animals  that  they  are 
and  sons  of  evil  mothers,  and  ill  befall  their  wicked 
dead,  and  their  little  dead  ones,  and  those  that  shall  be 
born  to  them  !  " 

Paoluccio's  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  he  spat  furi 
ously,  half  across  the  road.  Nino  watched  him  and 
hitched  the  side  of  his  upper  lip  on  one  of  his  lower 
fangs,  which  produced  the  effect  of  a  terrific  smile. 
Ercole  was  unmoved. 

"I  suppose,"  he  observed,  "that  they  said  it  hap 
pened  in  your  inn." 

"  And  why  should  it  happen  in  my  inn,  rather  than 
in  any  other  inn  ?"  inquired  Paoluccio  angrily. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Ercole,  "  I  cannot  imagine  why  they 
should  say  that  it  did  !  Some  one  must  have  put  the 
story  about.  A  servant,  perhaps,  whom  you  sent 
away." 

"We  did  not  send  Regina  away,"  answered  Pao 
luccio,  still  furious.  "  She  ran  away  in  the  night,  about 
that  time.  But,  as  you  say,  she  may  have  invented  the 
story  and  sent  the  newspaper  men  here  to  worry  our 
lives  with  their  questions,  out  of  mere  spite." 

"Who  was  this  Regina?"  Ercole  asked.  "What 
has  she  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Regina  ?  She  was  the  servant  girl  we  had  before 
this  one.  We  took  her  out  of  charity." 


260  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44  The  daughter  of  some  relation,  no  doubt,"  Ercole 
suggested. 

44  May  that  never  be,  if  it  please  the  Madonna  !  " 
cried  Paoluccio.  "  A  relation?  Thank  God  we  have 
always  been  honest  people  in  my  father's  house  !  No, 
it  was  not  a  relation.  She  came  of  a  crooked  race. 
Her  mother  took  a  lover,  and  her  father  killed  him, 
here  on  the  Frascati  road,  and  almost  killed  her  too  ; 
but  the  law  gave  him  the  right  and  he  went  free." 

44  And  then,  what  did  he  do  ?  "  asked  Ercole,  slowly 
putting  the  remains  of  his  bread  into  his  canvas  bag. 

44  What  did  he  do  ?  He  went  away  and  never  came 
back.  What  should  he  do  ?  " 

44  Quite  right.  And  the  woman,  what  became  of 
her?" 

44  She  took  other  men,  for  she  had  no  shame.  And  at 
last  one  of  them  was  jealous,  and  struck  her  on  the  head 
with  a  paving  stone,  not  meaning  to  kill  her  ;  but  she 
died." 

44  Oh,  she  died,  did  she  ?  " 

44  She  died.  For  she  was  always  spiteful.  And  so 
that  poor  man  went  to  the  galleys,  merely  for  hitting 
her  on  the  head,  and  not  meaning  to  kill  her." 

44  And  you  took  the  girl  for  your  servant  ?  " 

44  Yes.  She  was  old  enough  to  work,  and  very  strong, 
so  we  took  her  for  charity.  But  for  my  part,  I  was 
glad  when  she  ran  away,  for  she  grew  up  handsome, 
and  with  that  blood  there  surely  would  have  been  a 
scandal  some  day." 

44  One  sees  that  you  are  a  very  charitable  person," 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  261 

Ercole  observed  thoughtfully.  "The  girl  must  have 
been  very  ungrateful  if  she  told  untrue  stories  about 
your  inn,  after  all  you  had  done  for  her.  You  had 
nourished  a  viper  in  your  house." 

"  That  is  what  my  wife  says,"  Paoluccio  answered, 
now  quite  calm.  "  Those  are  my  wife's  very  words. 
As  for  believing  that  the  young  man  was  ever  in  this 
house,  I  tell  you  that  the  story  is  a  wicked  lie.  Where 
should  we  have  put  him  ?  In  the  cellar  with  the  hogs 
heads,  or  in  the  attic  with  the  maid  ?  or  in  our  own 
room?  Tell  me  where  we  could  have  put  him  !  Or 
perhaps  they  will  say  that  he  slept  on  the  ceiling,  like 
the  flies  ?  They  will  say  anything,  chattering,  chatter 
ing,  and  coming  here  with  their  questions  and  their 
photographing  machines,  and  their  bicycles,  and  the 
souls  of  their  dead  !  If  you  do  not  believe  me,  you  can 
see  the  place  where  they  say  that  he  lay  !  I  tell  you 

there  is  not  room  for  a  cat  in  this  house.     Believe  me 

i 

if  you  like  !  " 

"  How  can  I  not  believe  such  a  respectable  person  as 
you  seem  to  be  ?  "  inquired  Ercole  gravely. 

"  I  thank  you.  And  since  it  happens  that  you  are 
in  the  service  of  the  young  gentleman  himself,  I  hope 
you  will  tell  him  that  if  he  fancies  he  was  in  my  house, 
he  is  mistaken." 

"  Surely,"  said  Ercole. 

"  Besides,"  exclaimed  Paoluccio,  "  how  could  he  know 
where  he  was  ?  Are  not  all  inns  on  these  roads  alike  ? 
He  was  in  another,  that  is  all.  And  what  had  I  to  do 
with  that  ?  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

u  Nothing,"  assented  Ercole.  "  I  thank  you  for  your 
conversation.  I  will  take  a  glass  of  the  aniseed  before 
I  go,  if  you  please." 

"  Are  you  going  already  ? "  asked  Paoluccio,  as  he 
went  to  fetch  the  bottle  and  the  little  cast  glass  from 
which  he  himself  had  drunk. 

44  Yes,"  Ercole  answered.  44 1  go  to  Rome.  I  stopped 
to  refresh  myself." 

44  It  will  be  hot  on  the  road,"  said  Paoluccio,  setting 
the  full  glass  down  on  the  table.  44  Two  sous,"  he 
added,  as  Ercole  produced  his  old  sheepskin  purse. 
44  Thank  you." 

44  Thank  you,"  Ercole  answered,  and  tipped  the  spirits 
down  his  throat.  44  Yes,  it  will  be  hot,  but  what  can 
one  do  ?  We  are  used  to  it,  my  dog  and  I.  We  are 
not  of  wax  to  melt  in  the  sun." 

44  It  is  true  that  this  dog  does  not  look  as  if  he  were 
wax,"  Paoluccio  remarked,  for  the  qualities  of  Nino  had 
not  escaped  him. 

44  No.  He  is  not  of  wax.  He  is  of  sugar,  all  sugar  ! 
He  has  a  very  sweet  nature." 

44  One  would  not  say  so,"  answered  Paoluccio  doubt 
fully.  "  If  you  go  to  the  city  you  must  muzzle  him,  or 
they  will  make  you  pay  a  fine.  Otherwise  they  will 
kill  him  for  you." 

44  Do  you  think  any  one  would  try  to  catch  him  if 
I  let  him  run  loose  ?  "  asked  Ercole,  as  if  in  doubt. 
"He  killed  a  full-grown  wolf  before  he  was  two 
years  old,  and  not  long  ago  he  worried  a  sheep- 
'log  of  the  Campagna  as  if  it  had  been  nothing  but 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  263 

a  lamb.  Do  you  think  any  one  would  try  to  catch 
him  ?  " 

"  If  it  fell  to  me,  I  should  go  to  confession  first,"  said 
Paoluccio. 

So  Ercole  left  the  inn  and  trudged  along  the  road  to 
Rome  with  Nino  at  his  heels,  without  once  looking  be 
hind  him  ;  past  the  Baldinotti  houses  and  into  the  Via 
Appia  Nuova,  and  on  into  the  city  through  the  gate  of 
San  Giovanni,  where  the  octroi  men  stopped  him  and 
made  him  show  them  what  he  had  in  his  canvas  bag. 
When  they  saw  that  there  was  no  cheese  left  and  but 
little  bread,  they  let  him  go  by  without  paying  anything. 

He  went  up  to  the  left  and  sat  down  on  the  ground 
under  the  trees  that  are  there,  and  he  filled  his  little  clay 
pipe  and  smoked  a  while,  without  even  speaking  to  his 
dog.  It  was  quiet,  for  it  was  long  past  the  hour  when 
the  carts  come  in,  and  the  small  boys  were  all  gone  to 
school,  and  the  great  paved  slope  between  the  steps  of 
the  basilica  and  the  gate  was  quite  deserted,  and  very 
white  and  hot. 

Ercole  was  not  very  tired,  though  he  had  walked  all 
night  and  a  good  part  of  the  morning.  He  could  have 
gone  on  walking  till  sunset  if  he  had  chosen,  all  the 
way  to  his  little  stone  house  near  Ardea,  stopping  by 
the  way  to  get  a  meal ;  and  then  he  would  not  have 
slept  much  longer  than  usual.  A  Roman  peasant  in  his 
native  Campagna,  with  enough  to  eat  and  a  little  wine, 
is  hard  to  beat  at  walking.  Ercole  had  not  stopped  to 
rest,  but  to  think. 

When  he  had  thought  some  time,  he  looked  about  to 


(  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

see  if  any  one  were  looking  at  him,  and  he  saw  that  the 
only  people  in  sight  were  a  long  way  off.  He  took  his 
big  clasp-knife  out  of  his  pocket  and  opened  it.  As 
the  clasp  clicked  at  the  back  of  the  blade  Nino  woke 
and  sat  up,  for  the  noise  generally  meant  food. 

The  blade  was  straight  and  clean,  and  tolerably 
sharp.  Ercole  looked  at  it  critically,  drew  the  edge 
over  his  coarse  thumb-nail  to  find  if  there  were  any 
nick  in  the  steel,  and  then  scratched  the  same  thumb 
nail  with  it,  as  one  erases  ink  with  a  knife,  to  see  how 
sharp  it  was.  The  point  was  like  a  needle,  but  he  con 
sidered  that  the  edge  was  dull,  and  he  drew  it  up  and 
down  one  of  the  brown  barrels  of  his  gun,  as  care 
fully  as  he  would  have  sharpened  a  razor  on  a  whet 
stone.  After  that  he  stropped  it  on  the  tough  leathern 
strap  by  which  he  slung  the  gun  over  his  shoulder 
when  he  walked  ;  when  he  was  quite  satisfied,  he  shut 
the  knife  again  and  put  it  back  into  his  pocket,  and 
fell  to  thinking  once  more. 

Nino  watched  the  whole  operation  with  bloodshot 
eyes,  his  tongue  hanging  out  and  quivering  rhythmi 
cally  as  he  panted  in  the  heat  to  cool  himself.  When 
the  knife  disappeared,  and  the  chance  of  a  crust  with 
it,  the  dog  got  up,  deliberately  turned  his  back  to  his 
master,  and  sat  down  again  to  look  at  the  view. 

"  You  see,"  said  Ercole  to  himself  and  Nino,  "  this  is 
an  ,-iffair  which  needs  thought.  One  must  be  just.  It 
is  one  thing  to  kill  a  person's  body,  but  it  is  quite  an 
other  thing  to  kill  a  person's  soul.  That  would  be  a 
great  sin,  and  besides,  it  is  not  necessary.  Do  I  wish 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  265 

harm  to  any  one  ?  No.  It  is  justice.  Perhaps  I  shall 
go  to  the  galleys.  Well,  I  shall  always  have  the  satis 
faction,  and  it  will  be  greater  if  I  can  say  that  this  per 
son  is  in  Paradise.  For  I  do  not  wish  harm  to  any 


one." 


Having  said  this  in  a  tone  which  Nino  could  hear, 
Ercole  sat  thinking  for  some  time  longer,  and  then  he 
rose  and  slung  his  gun  over  his  shoulder,  and  went  out 
from  under  the  trees  into  the  glaring  heat,  as  if  he 
were  going  into  the  city.  But  instead  of  turning  to 
the  left,  up  the  hill,  he  went  on  by  the  broad  road  that 
follows  the  walls,  till  he  came  to  the  ancient  church  of 
Santa  Croce.  He  went  up  the  low  steps  to  the  deep 
porch  and  on  to  the  entrance  at  the  left.  Nino  followed 
him  very  quietly. 

Ercole  dipped  his  finger  into  the  holy  water  and 
crossed  himself,  and  then  went  up  the  nave,  making  as 
little  noise  as  he  could  with  his  hob-nailed  boots.  An 
old  monk  in  white  was  kneeling  at  a  broad  praying-stool 
before  an  altar  on  the  left.  Ercole  stood  still  near  him, 
waiting  for  him  to  rise,  and  slowly  turning  his  soft  hat 
in  his  hands,  as  if  it  were  a  rosary.  He  kept  his  eyes 
on  the  monk's  face,  studying  the  aged  features.  Pres 
ently  the  old  man  had  finished  his  prayer  and  got  upon 
his  feet  slowly,  and  looked  at  Ercole  and  then  at  Nino. 
Ercole  moved  forward  a  step,  and  stood  still  in  an 
attitude  of  respect. 

"  What  do  you  desire,  my  son  ? "  asked  the  monk, 
very  quietly.  "  Do  you  wish  to  confess  ?  " 

uNo,    father,    not    to-day,"    answered    Ercole.       "I 


266  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

come  to  pray  you  to  say  three  masses  for  the  soul  of  a 
person  who  died  suddenly.  I  have  also  brought  the 
money.  Only  tell  me  how  much  it  will  be,  and  I  will 

pay." 

"  You  shall  give  what  you  will,  my  son,"  the  monk 
said,  "and  I  will  say  the  masses  myself." 

Ercole  got  out  his  sheepskin  purse,  untied  the  strings, 
and  looked  into  it,  weighing  it  in  his  hand.  Then  he 
seemed  to  hesitate.  The  monk  looked  on  quietly. 

"It  is  of  your  own  free  will,"  he  said.  "  What  you 
choose  to  give  is  for  the  community,  and  for  this  church, 
and  for  the  chapel  of  Saint  Helen.  It  is  better  that 
you  know." 

Ercole  drew  the  mouth  of  the  purse  together  again 
and  returned  it  to  the  inside  of  his  waistcoat,  from 
which  he  produced  a  large  old  leathern  pocket-book. 

"  I  will  give  five  francs,"  he  said,  "  for  I  know  that 
if  you  say  the  masses  yourself,  they  will  be  all  good 
ones." 

A  very  faint  and  gentle  smile  flitted  over  the  aged 
face.  Ercole  held  out  the  small  note,  and  the  monk 
took  it. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  say  the  masses  for 
a  man  or  a  woman  ?" 

"  As  it  pleases  you,  father,"  Ercole  answered. 

"  Eh?  "     The  old  monk  looked  surprised. 

k-  1:  does  not  matter,"  Ercole  explained.  "Is  not  a 
mass  for  a  man  good  for  a  woman  also  ?  " 

"  \Ve  say  *  his '  soul  or  '  her '  soul,  as  the  case  may  be, 
my  son." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  267 

"  Is  that  written  m  the  book  of  the  mass  ?  "  inquired 
Ercole  distrustfully. 

"  Yes.  Also,  most  people  tell  us  the  baptismal  name 
of  the  dead  person." 

"Must  I  do  that  too?"  Ercole  asked,  by  no  means 
pleased. 

"  Not  unless  you  like,"  the  monk  answered,  looking 
at  him  with  some  curiosity. 

"  But  it  is  in  the  book  of  the  mass  that  you  must  say 
'his'  or  'her'  soul?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  the  masses  will  not  be  good  unless  you  say 
the  right  word."  Ercole  paused  a  moment  in  deep 
thought,  and  looked  down  at  his  hat.  "  It  will  be  bet 
ter  to  say  the  masses  for  a  female,"  he  said  at  length, 
without  meeting  the  monk's  eyes. 

"  Very  well,"  the  latter  answered.  "  I  will  say  the 
first  mass  to-morrow." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ercole.     "  My  respects  1  " 

He  made  a  sort  of  bow  and  hurried  away,  followed 
by  Nino.  The  old  monk  watched  him  thoughtfully, 
and  shook  his  head  once  or  twice,  for  he  guessed  some 
thing  of  the  truth,  though  by  no  means  all. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

"  ONE  might  almost  think  that  you  wished  to  marry 
Aurora  yourself,"  said  Corbario,  with  a  sneer. 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire  in  the  great 
library  of  the  villa,  for  it  was  late  autumn  again;  it  was 
raining  hard  and  the  air  was  raw  and  chilly. 

"You  may  think  what  you  please,"  Marcello  an 
swered,  leaning  back  in  his  deep  leathern  chair  and 
taking  up  a  book.  "  I  am  not  going  to  argue  with  you." 

"Insufferable  puppy,"  growled  Folco,  almost  under 
his  teeth  ;  but  Marcello  heard. 

He  rose  instantly  and  faced  the  elder  man  without 
the  slightest  fear  or  hesitation. 

"If  this  were  not  my  house,  and  you  my  guest,  I 
would  have  you  put  out  of  doors  by  the  servants,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  Corbario  had  never  heard  before.  "  As 
it  is,  I  only  advise  you  to  go  before  I  lose  my  temper 
altogether." 

Corbario  backed  till  his  heels  were  against  the  fender, 
and  tried  to  smile. 

"  My  dear  Marcello  I  "  he  protested.  "  What  non 
sense  is  this  ?  You  know  I  am  not  in  earnest !  " 

"I  am,"  said  Marcello  quietly  enough,  but  not 
moving. 

The  half-invalid  boy  was  not  a  boy  any  longer,  nor 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  269 

an  invalid  either,  and  he  had  found  his  hold  on  things, 
since  the  days  when  Folco  had  been  used  to  lead  him  as 
easily  as  if  he  had  no  will  of  his  own.  No  one  would 
have  judged  him  to  be  a  weak  man  now,  physically  or 
mentally.  His  frame  was  spare  and  graceful  still,  but 
there  was  energy  and  directness  in  his  movements,  his 
shoulders  were  square  and  he  held  his  head  high  ;  yet 
it  was  his  face  that  had  changed  most,  though  in  a  way 
very  hard  to  define.  A  strong  manhood  sometimes 
follows  a  weak  boyhood,  very  much  to  the  surprise  of 
those  who  have  long  been  used  to  find  feebleness  where 
strength  has  suddenly  developed.  Marcello  Consalvi 
had  never  been  cowardly,  or  even  timid  ;  he  had  only 
been  weak  in  will  as  in  body,  an  easy  prey  to  the  man 
who  had  tried  to  ruin  him,  body  and  soul,  in  the  hope 
of  sending  him  to  his  grave. 

"  I  really  cannot  understand  you,  my  dear  boy,"  Cor- 
bario  said  very  sweetly.  "  You  used  to  be  so  gentle  ! 
But  now  you  fly  into  a  passion  for  the  merest  thing." 

"  I  told  you  that  I  would  not  argue  with  you,"  Mar- 
cello  said,  keeping  his  temper.  "  This  is  my  house,  and 
I  choose  that  you  should  leave  it  at  once.  Go  your 
way,  and  leave  me  to  go  mine.  You  are  amply  pro 
vided  for,  as  long  as  you  live,  and  you  do  not  need  my 
hospitality  any  longer,  since  you  are  no  longer  my 
guardian.  Live  where  you  please.  You  shall  not  stay 
here." 

"I  certainly  don't  care  to  stay  here  if  you  don't  want 
me,"  Folco  answered.  "  But  this  is  really  too  absurd  ! 
You  must  be  going  mad,  to  take  such  a  tone  with  me  !  " 


'JVO  WHOSOEVEK   SHALL   OFFEND 

"It  is  the  only  one  which  any  honourable  man  who 
knows  you  would  be  inclined  to  take." 

"  Take  care  !     You  are  going  too  far." 

"Because  you  are  under  my  roof?  Yes,  perhaps. 
As  my  guest,  if  I  have  been  hasty,  I  apologise  for  ex 
pressing  my  opinion  of  you.  I  am  going  out  now.  I 
hope  you  will  find  it  convenient  to  have  left  before  I 


come  in." 


Thereupon  Marcello  turned  his  back  on  Corbario, 
crossed  the  great  library  deliberately,  and  went  out 
without  looking  round. 

Folco  was  left  alone,  and  his  still  face  did  not  even 
express  surprise  or  annoyance.  He  had  indeed  foreseen 
the  coming  break,  ever  since  he  had  returned  to  the 
villa  three  weeks  earlier,  when  Marcello  had  received 
him  with  evident  coldness,  not  even  explaining  where 
he  had  been  since  they  had  last  parted.  But  Folco  had 
not  expected  that  the  rupture  would  come  so  suddenly, 
still  less  that  he  was  literally  to  be  turned  out  of  the 
house  which  he  still  regarded  as  his  own,  and  in  which 
he  had  spent  so  many  prosperous  years.  There  had, 
indeed,  been  some  coldly  angry  words  between  the  two 
men.  Marcello  had  told  Folco  quite  plainly  that  he 
meant  to  be  the  master,  and  that  he  was  of  age,  and 
should  regulate  his  own  life  as  he  pleased,  and  he  had 
expressed  considerable  disgust  at  the  existence  Folco 
had  been  leading  in  Paris  and  elsewhere;  and  Folco 
had  always  tried  to  laugh  it  off,  calling  Marcello  pru 
dish  and  hypersensitive  in  matters  of  morality,  which 
he  certainly  was  not.  Once  he  had  attempted  an 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  271 

appeal  to  Marcello's  former  affection,  recalling  his 
mother's  love  for  them  both,  but  a  look  had  come  into 
the  young  man's  eyes  just  then  which  even  Corbario 
did  not  care  to  face  again,  and  the  relations  between 
the  two  had  become  more  strained  from  that  time  on. 

It  might  seem  almost  incredible  that  a  man  capable 
of  the  crimes  Corbario  had  committed  in  cold  blood,  for 
a  settled  purpose,  should  show  so  little  power  of  follow 
ing  the  purpose  to  its  accomplishment  after  clearing  the 
way  to  it  by  a  murder  ;  but  every  one  who  has  had  to 
do  with  criminals  is  aware  that  after  any  great  exertion 
of  destructive  energy  they  are  peculiarly  subject  to  a 
long  reaction  of  weakness  which  very  often  leads  to 
their  own  destruction.  If  this  were  not  a  natural  law, 
if  criminals  could  exert  continually  the  same  energy 
and  command  the  same  superhuman  cunning  which 
momentarily  helped  them  to  perpetrate  a  crime,  the 
world  would  be  in  danger  of  being  possessed  and  ruled 
by  them,  instead  of  being  mercifully,  and  perhaps  too 
much,  inclined  to  treat  them  as  degenerates  and 'mad 
men.  Their  conduct  after  committing  a  murder,  for 
instance,  seems  to  depend  much  more  on  their  nerves 
than  on  their  intelligence,  and  the  time  almost  invari 
ably  comes  when  their  nerves  break  down.  It  is  upon 
the  moment  when  this  collapse  of  the  will  sets  in  that 
the  really  experienced  detective  counts,  knowing  that 
it  may  be  hastened  or  retarded  by  circumstances  quite 
beyond  the  murderer's  control.  The  life  of  a  mur 
derer,  after  the  deed,  is  one  long  fight  with  such  circum 
stances,  and  if  he  once  loses  his  coolness  he  is  himself 


272  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

almost  as  surely  lost  as  a  man  who  is  carried  away  by 
his  temper  in  a  duel  with  swords. 

After  Folco  had  killed  his  wife  and  had  just  failed 
to  kill  Marcello,  he  had  behaved  with  wonderful  calm 
and  propriety  for  a  little  while ;  but  before  long  the 
old  wild  longing  for  excitement  and  dissipation,  so 
long  kept  down  during  his  married  life,  had  come 
upon  him  with  irresistible  force,  and  he  had  yielded  to 
it.  Then,  in  hours  of  reaction,  in  the  awful  depression 
that  comes  with  the  grey  dawn  after  a  night  of  wine 
and  pleasure  and  play,  terrible  little  incidents  had 
come  back  to  his  memory.  He  had  recalled  Kalmon's 
face  and  quiet  words,  and  his  own  weakness  when  he 
had  first  come  to  see  Marcello  in  the  hospital  —  that 
abject  terror  which  both  Regina  and  the  doctor  must 
have  noticed  —  and  his  first  impression  that  Marcello 
no  longer  trusted  him  as  formerly,  and  many  other 
things  ;  and  each  time  he  had  been  thus  disturbed,  he 
had  plunged  deeper  into  the  dissipation  which  alone 
could  cloud  such  memories  and  keep  them  out  of  sight 
for  a  time  ;  till  at  last  he  had  come  to  live  in  a  con 
tinual  transition  from  recklessness  to  fear  and  from 
fear  to  recklessness,  and  he  had  grown  to  detest  the 
very  sight  of  Marcello  so  heartily  that  an  open  quarrel 
was  almost  a  relief. 

If  he  had  been  his  former  self,  he  would  undoubtedly 
have  returned  to  his  original  purpose  of  killing  Mar- 
cello  outright,  since  he  had  not  succeeded  in  killing 
him  by  dissipation.  But  his  nerve  was  not  what  it  had 
been,  and  the  circumstances  were  not  in  his  favour. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  273 

Moreover,  Marcello  was  now  of  age,  and  had  probably 
made  a  will,  unknown  to  Corbario,  in  which  case  the 
fortune  would  no  longer  revert  to  the  latter.  The  risk 
was  too  great,  since  it  would  no  longer  be  undertaken 
for  a  certainty  amounting  to  millions.  It  was  better 
to  be  satisfied  with  the  life-interest  in  one-third  of 
the  property,  which  he  already  enjoyed,  and  which 
supplied  him  with  abundant  means  for  amusing 
himself. 

It  was  humiliating  to  be  turned  out  of  the  house  by 
a  mere  boy,  as  he  still  called  Marcello,  but  he  was  not 
excessively  sensitive  to  humiliation,  and  he  promised 
himself  some  sort  of  satisfactory  vengeance  before  long. 
What  surprised  him  most  was  that  the  first  quarrel 
should  have  been  about  Aurora.  He  had  more  than 
once  said  in  conversation  that  he  meant  to  marry  the 
girl,  and  Marcello  had  chosen  to  say  nothing  in  answer 
to  the  statement ;  but  when  Folco  had  gone  so  far  as 
to  hint  that  Aurora  was  in  love  with  him  and  was 
about  to  accept  him,  Marcello  had  as  good  as  given 
him  the  lie  direct,  and  a  few  more  words  had  led  to 
the  outbreak  recorded  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Corbario  understood  what  had 
led  to  it  better  than  Marcello  himself,  who  had  no  very 
positive  reason  for  entirely  disbelieving  his  stepfather's 
words.  The  Contessa  and  her  daughter  had  returned 
to  Rome,  and  Corbario  often  went  to  see  them,  whereas 
Marcello  had  not  been  even  once.  When  Marcello  had 
last  seen  Folco  in  the  Engadine,  he  had  left  him  sitting 
in  their  little  room  at  the  hotel.  Folco  was  not  at  all 


274  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

too  old  to  inarry  Aurora  ;  he  was  rich,  at  least  for  life, 
and  Aurora  was  poor  ;  he  was  good-looking,  accom 
plished,  and  ready  with  his  tongue.  It  was  by  no 
means  impossible  that  he  might  make  an  impression 
on  the  girl  and  ultimately  win  her.  Besides,  Marcello 
felt  that  odd  little  resentment  against  Aurora  which 
very  young  men  sometimes  feel  against  young  girls, 
whom  they  have  thought  they  loved,  or  are  really 
about  to  love,  or  are  afraid  of  loving,  which  makes 
them  rude,  or  unjust,  or  both,  towards  those  perhaps 
quite  unconscious  maidens,  and  which  no  woman  can 
ever  understand. 

44  My  dear  Harry,  why  will  you  be  so  disagreeable  to 
Mary  ?  "  asks  the  wondering  mother.  "  She  is  such  a 
charming  girl,  and  only  the  other  day  she  was  saying 
that  you  are  such  a  nice  boy  !  " 

44  Humph  I "  snorts  Harry  rudely,  and  forthwith 
lights  his  pipe  and  goes  off  to  the  stables  to  growl  in 
peace,  or  across  country,  or  to  his  boat,  or  to  any  other 
heavenly  place  not  infested  by  women. 

There  had  been  moments  when,  in  his  heart,  Marcello 
had  almost  said  that  it  would  serve  Aurora  right  to  be 
married  to  Corbario  ;  yet  at  the  first  hint  from  the 
latter  that  she  was  at  all  in  danger  of  such  a  fate,  Mar- 
cello  had  broken  out  as  if  the  girl's  good  name  had 
been  attacked,  and  had  turned  his  stepfather  out  of  the 
house  in  a  very  summary  fashion. 

Having  done  so,  he  left  the  villa  on  foot,  though  it 
was  raining  hard,  and  walked  quickly  past  San  Pietro 
in  Montorio  and  down  the  hill  towards  Trastevere. 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND  275 

The  southwest  wind  blew  the  rain  under  his  umbrella ; 
it  was  chilly  as  well  as  wet,  and  a  few  big  leaves  were 
beginning  to  fall  from  the  plane-trees. 

He  was  not  going  to  the  little  house,  where  Regina 
sat  by  the  window  looking  at  the  rain  and  wishing  that 
he  would  come  soon.  When  he  was  down  in  the 
streets  he  hailed  the  first  cab  he  saw,  gave  the  man  an 
address  in  the  Forum  of  Trajan,  and  climbed  in  under 
the  hood,  behind  the  dripping  leathern  apron,  taking 
his  umbrella  with  him  and  getting  thoroughly  wet,  as 
is  inevitable  when  one  takes  a  Roman  cab  in  the  rain. 

The  Contessa  was  out,  in  spite  of  the  weather,  but 
Marcello  asked  if  Aurora  would  see  him,  and  presently 
he  was  admitted  to  the  drawing-room,  where  she  was 
sitting  beside  a  rather  dreary  little  fire,  cutting  a  new 
book.  She  threw  it  down  and  rose  to  meet  him,  as 
little  outwardly  disturbed  as  if  they  had  seen  each 
other  constantly  during  the  past  two  years.  She  gave 
him  her  hand  quietly,  and  they  sat  down  and  looked  at 
the  fire. 

"  It  won't  burn,"  Aurora  said,  rather  disconsolately. 
"  It  never  did  burn  very  well,  but  those  horrid  people 
who  have  had  the  apartment  for  two  years  have  spoilt 
the  fireplace  altogether." 

"  I  remember  that  it  used  to  smoke,"  Marcello  an 
swered,  going  down  on  his  knees  and  beginning  to 
move  the  little  logs  into  a  better  position. 

"Thank  you,"  Aurora  said,  watching  him.  "You 
won't  succeed,  but  it's  good  of  you  to  try." 

Marcello   said   nothing,  and   presently  he  took  the 


276  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

queer  little  Roman  bellows,  and  set  to  work  to  blow 
upon  the  smouldering  spots  where  the  logs  touched 
each  other.  In  a  few  seconds  a  small  flame  appeared, 
and  soon  the  fire  was  burning  tolerably. 

"  How  clever  you  are  !  "     Aurora  laughed  quietly. 

Marcello  rose  and  sat  upon  a  low  chair,  instead  of  on 
the  sofa  beside  her.  For  a  while  neither  spoke,  and  he 
looked  about  him  rather  awkwardly,  while  Aurora 
watched  the  flames.  It  was  long  since  he  had  been  in 
the  room,  and  it  looked  shabby  after  the  rather  exces 
sive  magnificence  of  the  villa  on  the  Janiculum,  for 
which  Corbario's  taste  had  been  largely  responsible. 
It  was  just  a  little  shabby,  too,  compared  with  the 
dainty  simplicity  of  the  small  house  in  Trastevere.  The 
furniture,  the  carpets,  and  the  curtains  were  two  years 
older  than  when  he  had  seen  them  last,  and  had  been 
unkindly  used  by  the  tenants  to  whom  the  Contessa 
had  sub-let  the  apartment  in  order  to  save  the  rent. 
Marcello  missed  certain  pretty  things  that  he  had  been 
used  to  see  formerly,  some  bits  of  old  Saxe,  a  little 
panel  by  an  early  master,  a  chiselled  silver  cup  in  which 
there  always  used  to  be  flowers.  He  wondered  where 
these  things  were,  and  felt  that  the  room  looked  rather 
bare  without  them. 

"It  burns  very  well  now,"  said  Aurora,  still  watch 
ing  the  fire. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  old  silver  cup,"  Marcello 
asked,  "and  all  the  little  things  that  used  to  be 
about?" 

"  We  took  them  away  with  us  when  we  let  the  apart- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  277 

ment,  and  they  are  not  unpacked  yet,  though  we  have 
been  here  two  months." 

"  Two  months  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  was  wondering  whether  you  were  ever 
coming  to  see  us  again  !  " 

"  Were  you  ?  I  fancied  that  you  would  not  care  very 
much  to  see  me  now." 

Aurora  said  nothing  to  this,  and  they  both  looked  at 
the  fire  for  some  time.  The  gentle  sound  of  the  little 
flames  was  cheerful,  and  gave  them  both  the  impression 
of  a  third  person,  talking  quietly. 

"  I  should  not  have  come  to-day,"  Marcello  said  at 
last,  "  except  that  something  has  happened." 

"  Nothing  bad,  I  hope  !  "  Aurora  looked  up  with  a 
sudden  anxiety  that  surprised  him. 

"  Bad  ?  No.  At  least,  I  think  not.  Why  are  you 
startled?" 

"  I  have  had  a  headache,"  Aurora  explained.  "  I  am  a 
little  nervous,  I  fancy.  What  is  it  that  has  happened  ?  " 

Marcello  glanced  at  her  doubtfully  before  he  an 
swered.  Her  quick  interest  in  whatever  chanced  to 
him  took  him  back  to  the  old  times  in  an  instant.  The 
place  was  familiar  and  quiet ;  her  voice  was  like  forgot 
ten  music,  once  delightful,  and  now  suddenly  recalled  ; 
her  face  had  only  changed  to  grow  more  womanly. 

"You  never  thought  of  marrying  Folco,  did  you?" 
he  asked,  all  at  once,  and  a  little  surprised  at  the  sound 
of  his  own  words. 

"I?"  Aurora  started  again,  but  not  with  anxiety. 
"  How  can  you  think  such  a  thing?  " 


278  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

M I  don't  think  it ;  but  an  hour  ago,  at  the  villa,  he 
told  me  in  almost  so  many  words  that  you  loved  him 
and  meant  to  accept  him." 

A  blush  of  honest  anger  rose  in  the  girl's  fair  face, 
and  subsided  instantly. 

"  And  what  did  you  say?  "  she  asked,  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  tremor  in  her  tone. 

"  I  turned  him  out  of  the  house,"  Marcello  answered 
quietly. 

"Turned  him  out?"  Aurora  seemed  amazed.  "You 
turned  him  out  -because  he  told  you  that  ?  " 

"That  and  other  things.  But  that  was  the  begin 
ning  of  it.  I  told  him  that  he  was  lying,  and  he 
called  me  names,  and  then  I  told  him  to  go.  He  will 
be  gone  when  I  reach  home." 

To  Marcello's  surprise,  Aurora  got  up  suddenly, 
crossed  the  room  and  went  to  one  of  the  windows. 
.Marcello  rose,  too,  and  stood  still.  She  seemed  to  be 
looking  out  at  the  rain,  but  she  had  grasped  one  of  the 
curtains  tightly,  and  it  looked  as  if  she  were  pressing 
the  other  hand  to  her  left  side.  For  a  second  her  head 
bent  forward  a  little  and  her  graceful  shoulders  moved 
nervously,  as  though  she  were  trying  to  swallow  some 
thing  hard.  Marcello  watched  her  a  moment,  and  then 
crossed  the  room  and  stood  beside  her. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice,  and 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  hers  that  held  the  cur 
tain. 

She  drew  her  own  away  quietly  and  turned  her 
head.  Her  eyes  were  dry  and  bright,  but  there  were 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  279 

deep  bistre  shadows  under  them  that  had  not  been 
there  before,  and  the  lower  lids  were  swollen. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  answered,  and  then  laughed 
nervously.  "  I  am  glad  you  have  made  your  step 
father  go  away.  It  was  time!  I  was  afraid  you 
were  as  good  friends  as  ever." 

44  We  have  not  been  on  good  terms  since  we  parted 
in  Pontresina.  Do  you  remember  when  I  left  him  in 
your  sitting-room  at  the  hotel?  He  had  been  trying 
to  persuade  me  to  go  back  to  Paris  with  him  at  once. 
In  fact  —  "  he  hesitated. 

"  You  intended  to  go,"  Aurora  said,  completing  the 
sentence.  "And  then  you  changed  your  mind." 

"  Yes.  I  could  not  do  it.  I  cannot  explain  every 
thing." 

44 1  understand  without  any  explanation.  I  think  you 
did  right." 

She  went  back  to  the  fireplace  and  sat  down  in  the 
corner  of  the  sofa,  leaning  far  back  and  stretching  out 
one  foot  to  the  fender  in  an  unconscious  attitude  of 
perfect  grace.  In  the  grey  afternoon  the  firelight  began 
to  play  in  her  auburn  hair.  Now  and  then  she  glanced 
at  Mar  cello  with  half -closed  lids,  and  there  was  a  sug 
gestion  of  a  smile  on  her  lips.  Marcello  saw  that  in 
her  way  she  was  as  beautiful  as  Regina,  and  he  remem 
bered  how  they  had  kissed,  without  a  word,  when  the 
moon's  rays  quivered  through  the  trees  by  the  Roman 
shore,  more  than  two  years  ago.  They  had  been 
children  then.  All  at  once  he  felt  a  great  longing 
to  kneel  down  beside  the  sofa  and  throw  his  arms 


280  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

round  her  waist  and  kiss  her  once  again ;  but  at  almost 
the  same  instant  he  thought  of  Regina,  waiting  for  him 
by  the  window  over  there  in  Trastevere,  and  he  felt 
the  shame  rising  to  his  face ;  and  he  leaned  back  in  his 
low  chair,  clasping  his  hands  tightly  over  one  knee,  as 
if  to  keep  himself  from  moving. 

••  Marcello,"  Aurora  began  presently,  but  she  got  no 
further. 

"  Yes  ?  "     Still  he  did  not  move. 

"  I  have  something  on  my  conscience."  She  laughed 
low.  "  No,  it  is  serious  I  "  she  went  on,  as  if  reproving 
herself.  "  I  have  always  felt  that  everything  that 
has  happened  to  you  since  we  parted  that  morning 
by  the  shore  has  been  my  fault." 

44  Why  ?  "  Marcello  seemed  surprised. 

44  Because  I  called  you  a  baby,"  she  said.  "  If  you 
had  not  been  angry  at  that,  if  you  had  not  turned 
away  and  left  me  suddenly  —  you  were  quite  right, 
you  know  —  you  would  not  have  been  knocked  down, 
you  would  not  have  wandered  away  and  lost  your 
self.  You  would  not  have  lost  your  memory,  or  been 
ill  in  a  strange  place,  or  —  or  all  the  rest!  So  it  is 
all  my  fault,  you  see,  from  beginning  to  end." 

44  How  absurd  1  "    Marcello  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

44  No.  I  think  it  is  true.  But  you  have  changed 
very  much,  Marcello.  You  are  not  a  boy  any  longer. 
You  have  a  will  of  your  own  now ;  you  are  a  man. 
Do  you  mind  my  telling  you  that?" 

44  Certainly  not  I  "     He  smiled  again. 

44 1    remember  very  well  what  you  answered.     You 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  281 

said  that  I  should  not  laugh  at  you  again.  And  that 
has  come  true.  You  said  a  good  many  other  things. 
Do  you  remember?" 

"No.  I  was  angry.  What  did  I  say?  Everything 
that  happened  before  I  was  hurt  seems  very  far  off." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  Aurora  answered  softly.  "I 
am  glad  you  have  forgotten,  for  though  I  was  angry 
too,  and  did  not  care  at  the  time,  the  things  you  said 
have  hurt  me  since." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Marcello  said  gently,  "very,  very 
sorry.  Forgive  me." 

"It  was  all  my  fault,  for  I  was  teasing  you  for  the 
mere  fun  of  the  thing.  I  was  nothing  but  a  silly 
school-girl  then." 

"Yes.     You  have  changed,  too." 

"Am  I  at  all  what  you  expected  I  should  be?" 
Aurora  asked,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

Marcello  glanced  at  her,  and  clasped  his  hands  over 
his  knee  more  tightly  than  ever. 

"  I  wish  you  were  not,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Don't  wish  that. "    Her  tone  was  even  lower  than  his. 

Neither  spoke  again  for  some  time,  and  they  did 
not  look  at  each  other.  But  the  flames  flickering  in 
the  small  fireplace  seemed  to  be  talking,  like  a  third 
person  in  the  room.  Aurora  moved  at  last,  and 
changed  her  position. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  have  quarrelled  with  your 
stepfather,"  she  said.  "He  meant  to  do  you  all  the 
harm  he  could.  He  meant  you  to  die  of  the  life  you 
were  leading." 


282  WHOSOKVEB  SHALL   OFFEND 

u  You  know  that?  "     Marcello  looked  up  quickly. 

44  Yes.  I  have  heard  my  mother  and  Professor  Kalmon 
talking  about  it  when  they  thought  I  was  not  listening. 
1  always  pretend  that  I  am  not  listening  when  anybody 
talks  about  you."  She  laughed  a  little.  "  It  is  so  much 
simpler,"  she  added,  as  if  to  explain.  "  The  Professor 
said  that  your  stepfather  was  killing  you  by  inches. 
Those  were  his  words." 

u  The  Professor  never  liked  him.  But  he  was  right. 
Have  you  seen  him  often?" 

"  Yes."  Aurora  laughed  again.  "  He  always  turns 
up  wherever  we  are,  pretending  that  it  is  the  most 
unexpected  meeting  in  the  world.  He  is  just  like  a 
boy  !  " 

M  \Vliat  do  you  mean  ?     Is  he  in  love  with  you  ?" 

"  With  me  ?  No  I  He  is  madly  in  love  with  my 
mother !  Fancy  such  a  thing !  When  he  found  that  we 
were  coming  back  to  Rome  he  gave  up  his  professorship 
in  Milan,  and  he  has  come  to  live  here  so  as  to  be  able 
to  see  her.  So  I  hear  them  talking  a  great  deal,  and 
he  seems  to  have  found  out  a  great  many  things  about 
your  stepfather  which  nobody  ever  knew.  He  takes 
an  extraordinary  interest  in  him  for  some  reason  or 
other." 

44  What  has  he  found  out  ?  "  asked  Marcello. 

"  Enough  to  hang  him,  if  people  could  be  hanged  in 
Italy,"  Aurora  answered. 

44 1  should  have  thought  Folco  too  clever  to  do  any 
thing  really  against  the  law,"  said  Marcello,  who  did 
not  seem  much  surprised  at  what  she  said. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  283 

"  The  Professor  believes  that  it  was  he  that  tried  to 
kill  you." 

44  How  is  that  possible  ?  "  Marcello  asked,  in  great 
astonishment.  "You  would  have  seen  him!" 

44 1  did.  You  had  not  been  gone  three  minutes  when 
he  came  round  to  the  gap  in  the  bank  where  I  was 
standing.  He  came  from  the  side  towards  which  I  had 
seen  you  go.  It  was  perfectly  impossible  that  he  should 
not  have  met  you.  The  Professor  says  he  must  have 
known  that  you  were  there,  looking  at  the  storm,  but 
that  he  did  not  know  that  I  was  with  you,  and  that  he 
was  lying  in  wait  for  you  to  strike  you  from  behind. 
If  we  had  gone  back  together  he  would  not  have  shown 
himself,  that's  all,  and  he  would  have  waited  for  a 
better  chance.  If  I  had  only  followed  you  I  should 
have  seen  what  happened." 

44  That  is  the  trouble,"  said  Marcello  thoughtfully. 
44  No  one  ever  saw  what  happened,  and  I  remember  noth 
ing  but  that  I  fell  forward,  feeling  that  I  had  been 
struck  on  the  back  of  the  head.  Did  you  not  hear  any 
sound  ?  " 

44  How  could  I,  in  such  a  gale  as  was  blowing  ?  It 
all  looks  dreadfully  likely  and  quite  possible,  and  the 
Professor  is  convinced  that  your  stepfather  has  done 
some  worse  things." 

"Worse?" 

44  Yes,  because  he  did  not  fail  in  doing  them,  as  he 
did  when  he  tried  to  kill  you." 

"But  what  must  such  a  man  be?"  cried  Marcello, 
suddenly  breaking  out  in  anger.  "  What  must  his  life 


284  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

have  been  in  all  the  years  before  my  mother  married 
him  ?  " 

44  He  was  a  kind  of  adventurer  in  South  America.  I 
don't  quite  know  what  he  did  there,  but  Professor 
Kalmon  has  found  out  a  great  deal  about  him  from  the 
Argentine  Republic,  where  he  lived  until  he  killed 
somebody  and  had  to  escape  to  Europe.  If  I  were 
you  I  would  go  and  see  the  Professor,  since  he  is  in 
Rome.  He  lives  at  No.  16,  Via  Sicilia.  He  will  tell 
you  a  great  deal  about  that  man  when  he  knows  that 
you  have  parted  for  good." 

44  I'll  go  and  see  him.  Thank  you.  I  cannot 
imagine  that  he  could  tell  me  anything  worse  than  I 
have  already  heard." 

"Perhaps  he  may,"  Aurora  answered  very  gravely. 

Then  she  was  silent,  and  Marcello  could  not  help 
looking  at  her  as  she  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the 
sofa.  Of  all  things,  at  that  moment,  he  dreaded  lest 
he  should  lose  command  of  himself  under  the  unex 
pected  influence  of  her  beauty,  of  old  memories,  of  the 
failing  light,  of  the  tender  shadows  that  still  lingered 
under  her  eyes,  of  that  exquisite  small  hand  that  lay 
idly  on  the  sofa  beside  her,  just  within  his  reach.  He 
rose  abruptly,  no  longer  trusting  himself. 

44 1  must  be  going,"  he  said. 

44  Already?  Why?"  She  looked  up  at  him  and 
their  eyes  met. 

*4  Because  I  cannot  be  alone  with  you  any  longer.  I 
do  not  trust  myself." 

44  Yes,  you  do.    You  are  a  man  now,  and  I  trust  you.v 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  285 

He  had  spoken  roughly  and  harshly  in  his  momen 
tary  self-contempt,  but  her  words  were  clear  and  quiet, 
and  rang  true.  He  stood  still  in  silence  for  a  moment. 

"  And  besides,"  she  added  softly,  "  she  trusts  you  too." 

There  was  a  little  emphasis  on  the  word  "  she  "  and 
in  her  tone  that  was  a  reproach,  and  he  looked  at  her 
in  wonder. 

"  We  cannot  talk  of  her,  you  and  I,"  she  said,  turn 
ing  her  eyes  to  the  fire,  "  but  you  know  what  I  mean, 
Marcello.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  kind.  We  women 
do  not  think  so  much  of  that  as  you  men  fancy.  You 
must  be  true  as  well." 

"I  know  it,"  Marcello  answered,  bending  his  head 
a  little.  "  Good-bye,  Aurora." 

"  No.  Not  good-bye,  for  you  will  come  again  soon, 
and  then  again,  and  often." 

«  Shall  I  ?  " 

"Yes,  because  we  can  trust  each  other,  though  we 
are  fond  of  each  other.  We  are  not  children  any 
longer,  as  we  used  to  be." 

"  Then  I  will  come  sometimes." 

He  took  her  hand,  trying  not  to  feel  that  it  was  in 
his,  and  he  left  her  sitting  by  the  rather  dreary  little 
fire,  in  the  rather  shabby  room,  in  the  grey  twilight. 

As  he  drove  through  the  wet  streets,  he  went  over 
all  she  had  said,  went  over  it  again  and  again,  till  he 
knew  her  words  by  heart.  But  he  did  not  try,  or  dare 
to  try,  to  examine  what  he  felt,  and  was  going  to  feel. 
The  manliness  that  had  at  last  come  to  its  full  growth 
in  him  clung  to  the  word  "  true  "  as  she  had  meant  it. 


286  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

But  she,  being  left  alone,  leaned  forward,  resting 
her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  clasping  her  hands  as  she 
gazed  at  the  smouldering  remains  of  the  fire.  She  had 
known  well  enough  that  she  had  loved  him  before  he 
had  come  ;  she  had  known  it  too  well  when  he  had 
told  her  how  he  had  driven  Folco  out  of  his  house  for 
having  spoken  of  her  too  carelessly.  Then  the  blood 
had  rushed  to  her  throat,  beating  hard,  and  if  she  had 
not  gone  quickly  to  the  window  she  felt  that  she  must 
have  cried  for  joy.  She  was  far  too  proud  to  let  him 
guess  that,  but  she  was  not  too  proud  to  love  him,  in 
spite  of  everything,  though  it  meant  that  she  compared 
herself  with  the  peasant  girl,  and  envied  her,  and  in  all 
maiden  innocence  would  have  changed  places  with  her 
if  she  could. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IT  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Marcello  reached 
the  villa,  and  was  told  that  his  stepfather  had  left 
suddenly  with  his  valet,  before  sunset,  taking  a  good 
deal  of  luggage  with  him.  The  coachman  had  driven 
him  to  the  station  and  had  seen  no  more  of  him.  He 
had  not  left  any  message  or  note  for  Marcello.  This 
was  as  it  should  be,  and  Marcello  did  not  care  to 
know  whither  he  had  gone,  since  he  was  out  of  the 
house.  He  was  glad,  however,  that  he  had  left  Rome 
at  once  instead  of  going  to  an  hotel,  which  would  have 
made  an  interesting  topic  of  conversation  for  gossips. 

Marcello  vaguely  wondered  why  Folco  had  told  a  per 
fectly  gratuitous  falsehood  about  Aurora,  and  whether 
he  could  possibly  have  lied  merely  for  the  sake  of  hurting 
him.  If  so,  he  had  got  his  deserts.  It  mattered  very 
little  now,  and  it  was  a  waste  of  thought  to  think  of 
him  at  all. 

The  young  man  had  a  big  fire  built  in  the  library, 
and  sat  down  in  his  favourite  leathern  chair  under  the 
shaded  light.  He  was  tired,  but  not  sleepy,  and  he 
was  glad  to  be  alone  at  last,  for  he  had  felt  Corbario's 
evil  presence  in  the  house,  though  they  had  met  little 
of  late,  and  it  was  a  great  relief  to  know  that  he  would 
never  return. 

287 


288  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

He  was  glad  to  be  alone,  and  yet  he  felt  lonely,  for 
the  one  condition  did  not  make  the  other  impossible. 
He  was  glad  to  be  able  to  think  in  peace,  but  when  he 
did  think,  he  longed  for  some  companionship  in  his 
thoughts,  and  he  found  that  he  was  wishing  himself 
back  in  the  room  that  looked  down  upon  the  Forum  of 
Trajan,  with  Aurora,  and  that  she  was  telling  him 
again  that  she  could  trust  him ;  and  yet  the  very 
thought  seemed  to  mean  that  he  was  not  to  be  trusted. 

Psychological  problems  are  only  interesting  when 
they  concern  other  people  than  ourselves,  for  there  can 
be  no  problem  where  there  is  not  a  difficulty,  and  where 
the  inner  self  is  concerned  there  can  be  no  difficulty 
that  does  not  demand  immediate  solution  if  we  are  to 
find  peace.  Some  men  of  very  strong  and  thoughtful 
character  are  conscious  of  a  sort  of  second  self  within 
themselves,  to  which  they  appeal  in  trouble  as  Socrates 
to  his  Daemon;  but  most  men,  in  trouble  and  alone, 
would  turn  to  a  friend  if  there  were  one  at  hand. 

Marcello  had  none,  and  he  felt  horribly  lonely  in  his 
great  house,  as  the  faces  of  two  women  rose  before  him, 
on  the  right  and  left. 

But  he  was  a  man  now,  and  as  he  sat  there  he  deter 
mined  to  face  the  problem  bravely  and  to  solve  it  once 
and  for  ever  by  doing  what  was  right,  wheresoever  he 
could  convince  himself  that  right  lay,  and  without  any 
regard  for  his  own  inclinations. 

He  told  himself  that  this  must  be  possible,  because 
where  right  and  wrong  were  concerned  it  was  never 
possible  to  hesitate  long.  A  man  is  never  so  convinced 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  289 

that  right  is  easy  to  distinguish  and  to  do  as  when  he 
has  lately  made  up  his  mind  to  reform.  Indeed,  the 
weakness  as  well  as  the  strength  of  all  reformers  lies  in 
their  blind  conviction  that  whatever  strikes  them  as 
right  must  be  done  immediately,  with  a  haste  that 
strongly  resembles  hurry,  and  with  no  regard  for  con 
sequences.  You  might  as  well  try,  when  an  express 
train  is  running  at  full  speed  on  the  wrong  track,  to 
heave  it  over  to  the  right  one  without  stopping  it  and 
without  killing  the  passengers.  Yet  most  reformers  of 
themselves  and  others,  from  the  smallest  to  the  greatest, 
seem  to  believe  that  this  can  be  done,  ought  to  be  done, 
and  must  be  done  at  once. 

Marcello  was  just  then  a  reformer  of  this  sort.  He 
had  become  aware  in  the  course  of  that  afternoon  that 
something  was  seriously  wrong,  and  as  his  own  will  and 
character  had  served  him  well  of  late,  he  trusted  both 
beforehand  and  set  to  work  to  find  out  the  right  track, 
with  the  distinct  intention  of  violently  transferring  the 
train  of  his  existence  to  it  as  soon  as  it  had  been  dis 
covered.  He  was  very  sure  of  the  result. 

Besides,  he  had  been  brought  up  by  a  very  religious 
woman,  and  a  strong  foundation  of  belief  remained  in 
him,  and  was  really  the  basis  of  all  his  thinking  about 
himself.  He  had  been  careless,  thoughtless,  reckless, 
since  his  mother  had  died,  but  he  had  never  lost  that 
something  to  which  a  man  may  best  go  back  in  trouble. 
Sometimes  it  hurt  him,  sometimes  it  comforted  him 
vaguely,  but  he  was  always  conscious  that  it  was  there, 
and  had  been  there  through  all  his  wildest  days.  It 


1290  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

was  not  a  very  reasoning  belief,  for  he  was  not  an  in 
tellectual  man,  but  it  was  unchangeable  and  solid  still 
in  spite  of  all  his  past  weakness.  It  bade  him  do  right, 
blindly,  and  only  because  right  was  right ;  but  it  did 
not  open  his  eyes  to  the  terrible  truth  that  whereas 
right  is  right,  the  Supreme  Power,  which  is  always  in 
the  right,  does  not  take  human  life  into  consideration 
at  all,  and  that  a  man  is  under  all  circumstances  bound 
to  consider  the  value  of  life  to  others,  and  sometimes  its 
value  to  himself,  when  others  depend  upon  him  for 
their  happiness,  or  safety,  or  welfare. 

Animated  by  the  most  sincere  wish  to  find  the  right 
direction  and  follow  it  —  perhaps  because  Aurora  had 
said  that  she  trusted  him  —  yet  blind  to  the  dangers 
that  beset  his  path,  there  is  no  knowing  how  many 
lives  Marcello  might  not  have  wrecked  by  acting  on 
the  resolutions  he  certainly  would  have  made  if  he  had 
been  left  to  himself  another  hour. 

He  was  deep  in  thought,  his  feet  stretched  out  to  the 
fire,  his  head  leaning  back  against  the  leathern  cushion 
of  his  chair,  his  eyes  half  closed,  feeling  that  he  was 
quite  alone  and  beyond  the  reach  of  every  one,  if  he 
chose  to  sit  there  until  morning  wrestling  with  his 
psychological  problem. 

He  was  roused  by  the  sharp  buzz  of  the  telephone 
instrument  which  stood  on  the  writing-table.  It  was 
very  annoying,  and  he  wished  he  had  turned  it  off 
before  he  had  sat  down,  but  since  some  one  was  call 
ing  he  got  up  reluctantly  to  learn  who  wanted  him  at 
that  hour.  He  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  saw  that  it 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  291 

was  nearly  half -past  ten.  The  instrument  buzzed  again 
as  he  reached  the  table. 

"  I  want  to  see  Signer  Consalvi  at  once ;  is  it  too 
late?"  asked  a  man's  voice  anxiously. 

"I  am  Consalvi.  Who  are  you,  please?"  asked 
Marcello. 

"Kalmon.  Is  it  true  that  Corbario  has  left  the 
villa?" 

"  Yes.     He  left  this  afternoon." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"He  drove  to  the  railway  station.  I  don't  know 
where  he  is  gone.  He  left  no  address." 

"  —  railway  station  —  no  address  —  "  Marcelio  heard 
the  words  as  Kalmon  spoke  to  some  other  person  at  his 
elbow,  wherever  he  was. 

"May  I  come  at  once?"  Kalmon  asked. 

"  Yes.    I  am  alone.    I'll  have  the  lower  gate  opened." 

"  Thanks.  I  shall  be  at  the  gate  in  twenty  minutes. 
Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye." 

Marcello  hung  up  the  receiver,  rang  the  bell,  and 
gave  the  order  for  the  gate,  adding  that  the  gentleman 
who  came  was  to  be  shown  in  at  once.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  waited. 

It  was  clear  that  Kalmon  had  learned  of  Corbario's 
departure  from  Aurora,  perhaps  through  her  mother. 
He  had  probably  dined  with  them,  for  he  was  intimate 
at  the  house,  and  Aurora  had  spoken  of  Marcello's 
visit.  There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  have 
done  so,  and  yet  Marcello  wished  that  she  had  kept 


292  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

it  to  herself  a  little  longer.  It  had  meant  so  much  to 
him,  and  it  suddenly  seemed  as  if  it  had  meant  nothing 
at  all  to  her.  She  had  perhaps  repeated  to  her  mother 
everything  that  had  been  said,  or  almost  everything, 
for  she  was  very  fond  of  her. 

Marcello  told  himself  roughly  that  since  he  had 
no  right  to  love  her,  and  was  determined  not  to,  he 
had  no  claim  upon  such  little  delicacies  of  discretion 
and  silence  on  her  part ;  and  his  problem  stuck  up  its 
head  again  out  of  the  deep  water  in  which  it  lived,  and 
glared  at  him,  and  shot  out  all  sorts  of  questions  like 
the  wriggling  tentacles  of  an  octopus,  inviting  him  to 
wrestle  with  them,  if  only  to  see  how  useless  all  wres 
tling  must  be.  He  rose  again  impatiently,  took  a  cigar 
from  a  big  mahogany  box  on  the  table,  lit  it  and 
smoked  savagely,  walking  up  and  down. 

It  was  half  finished  when  the  door  opened  and 
Kalmon  was  ushered  in.  He  held  out  his  hand  as  he 
came  forward,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  no  time 
to  lose. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  Marcello  said. 

u  And  I  am  exceedingly  glad  that  you  were  at  home 
when  I  called  you  up,"  Kalmon  answered.  "Have 
you  really  no  idea  where  Corbario  is?" 

"  Not  the  slightest.  I  am  only  too  glad  to  get  rid 
of  him.  I  suppose  the  Contessa  told  you  —  " 

"Yes.  I  was  dining  there.  But  she  only  told 
me  half  an  hour  ago,  just  as  I  was  coming  away,  and 
I  rushed  home  to  get  at  the  telephone." 

It  occurred  to  Marcello  that  Kalmon  need  not  have 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  293 

driven  all  the  way  to  Via  Sicilia  from  the  Forum  of 
Trajan  merely  for  the  sake  of  telephoning. 

"But  what  is  the  hurry?"  asked  Marcello.  "Do 
sit  down  and  explain  !  I  heard  this  afternoon  that 
you  had  strong  suspicions  as  to  Folco's  part  in  what 
happened  to  me." 

"Something  more  than  suspicions  now,"  Kalmon 
answered,  settling  his  big  frame  in  a  deep  chair  before 
the  fire  ;  "but  I  am  afraid  he  has  escaped." 

"  Escaped  ?  He  has  not  the  slightest  idea  that  he  is 
suspected  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  Don't  you  see  that  as  he  is 
guilty,  he  must  have  soon  begun  to  think  that  the 
change  in  your  manner  toward  him  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  you  suspected  him,  and  that  you  turned  him 
out  because  you  guessed  the  truth,  though  you  could 
not  prove  it  ?  " 

"Perhaps,"  Marcello  admitted,  in  a  rather  pre 
occupied  tone.  "  The  young  lady  seems  to  have 
repeated  to  her  mother  everything  I  said  this  after 
noon,"  he  added  with  evident  annoyance.  "Did  the 
Contessa  tell  you  why  I  quarrelled  with  Folco  to-day  ?  " 

"No.  She  merely  said  that  there  had  been  angry 
words  and  that  you  had  asked  him  to  leave  the  house. 
She  herself  was  surprised,  she  said,  and  wondered 
what  could  have  brought  matters  to  a  crisis  at  last." 

Marcello's  face  cleared  instantly.  Aurora  had  not 
told  any  one  that  he  had  quarrelled  with  his  stepfather 
about  her ;  that  was  quite  evident,  for  there  were  not 
two  more  truthful  people  in  the  world  than  the 


294  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

Contessa  and  Kalmon,  whose  bright  brown  eyes  were 
at  that  moment  quietly  studying  his  face. 

"  Not  that  the  fact  matters  in  the  least,"  said  the 
Professor,  resting  his  feet  on  the  fender  and  exposing 
the  broad  soles  of  his  wet  walking-boots  to  the  flame. 
44  The  important  fact  is  that  the  man  has  escaped,  and 
we  must  catch  him." 

44  But  how  are  you  so  sure  that  it  was  he  that  attacked 
me?  You  cannot  arrest  a  man  on  suspicion,  without 
going  through  a  great  many  formalities.  You  cannot 
possibly  have  got  an  eye-witness  to  the  fact,  and  so  it 
must  be  a  matter  of  suspicion  after  all,  founded  on  a 
certain  amount  of  rather  weak  circumstantial  evidence. 
Now,  if  it  was  he  that  tried  to  kill  me,  he  failed,  for  I 
am  alive,  and  perfectly  well.  Why  not  let  him  alone, 
since  I  have  got  rid  of  him  ?. " 

44  For  a  very  good  reason,  which  I  think  I  had  better 
not  tell  you." 

"Why  not?" 

44 1  am  not  sure  what  you  would  do  if  you  were  told 
it  suddenly.  Are  your  nerves  pretty  good  ?  You  used 
to  be  a  delicate  boy,  though  I  confess  that  you  look 
much  stronger  now." 

44  You  need  not  fear  for  my  nerves,"  Marcello  an 
swered  with  a  short  laugh.  44  If  they  are  sound  after 
what  I  have  been  through  in  the  last  two  years  they 
will  stand  anything !  " 

44  Yes.  Perhaps  you  had  better  know,  though  I  warn 
you  that  what  I  am  going  to  say  will  be  a  shock  to  you, 
of  which  you  do  not  dream." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  295 

"  You  must  be  exaggerating  I  "  Marcello  smiled  in 
credulously.  "  You  had  better  tell  me  at  once,  or  I 
shall  imagine  it  is  much  worse  than  it  is." 

"  It  could  not  be,"  Kalmon  answered.  "  It  is  hard 
even  to  tell,  and  not  only  because  what  happened  was 
in  a  distant  way  nay  fault." 

"  Your  fault  ?  For  heaven's  sake  tell  me  what  the 
matter  is,  and  let  us  be  done  with  it  !  " 

"Corbario  wanted  to  get  possession  of  your  whole 
fortune.  That  is  why  he  tried  to  kill  you." 

"  Yes.  Is  that  all  ?  You  have  made  me  understand 
that  already." 

"He  had  conceived  the  plan  before  your  mother's 
death,"  said  Kalmon. 

"That  would  not  surprise  me  either.  But  how  do 
you  know  it  ?  " 

"Do  you  remember  that  discovery  of  mine,  that  I 
called  4  the  sleeping  death '  ?  " 

"  Yes.  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  "  Marcello's 
expression  changed. 

"  Corbario  stole  one  of  the  tablets  from  the  tube  in 
my  pocket,  while  I  was  asleep  that  night." 

"  What  ?  "     Marcello  began  to  grow  pale. 

"  Your  mother  died  asleep,"  said  Kalmon  in  a  very 
low  voice. 

Marcello  was  transfixed  with  horror,  and  grasped  the 
arms  of  his  chair.  His  face  was  livid.  Kalmon 
watched  him,  and  continued. 

"  Yes.  Corbario  did  it.  Your  mother  used  to  take 
phenacetine  tablets  when  she  had  headaches.  They  were 


296  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

very  like  the  tablets  of  my  poison  in  size  and  shape. 
Corbario  stole  into  my  room  when  I  was  sound  asleep, 
took  one  of  mine,  and  dropped  in  one  of  hers.  Then 
he  put  mine  amongst  the  phenacetine  ones.  She  took 
it,  slept,  and  died." 

Marcello  gasped  for  breath,  his  eyes  starting  from 
his  head. 

"  You  see,"  Kalmon  went  on,  "  it  was  long  before  I 
found  that  my  tablets  had  been  tampered  with.  There 
had  been  seven  in  the  tube.  I  knew  that,  and  when  I 
glanced  at  the  tube  next  day  there  were  seven  still. 
The  tube  was  of  rather  thick  blue  glass,  if  you  remem 
ber,  so  that  the  very  small  difference  between  the  one 
tablet  and  the  rest  could  not  be  seen  through  it.  I 
went  to  Milan  almost  immediately,  and  when  I  got 
home  I  locked  up  the  tube  in  a  strong-box.  It  was 
not  until  long  afterwards,  when  I  wanted  to  make  an 
experiment,  that  I  opened  the  tube  and  emptied  the 
contents  into  a  glass  dish.  Then  I  saw  that  one  tablet 
was  unlike  the  rest.  I  saw  that  it  had  been  made  by  a 
chemist  and  not  by  myself.  I  analysed  it  and  found 
five  grains  of  phenacetine." 

M;ircello  leaned  back,  listening  intently,  and  still 
deadly  pale. 

"  You  did  not  know  that  I  was  trying  to  find  out 
how  you  had  been  hurt,  that  I  was  in  communication 
with  the  police  from  the  first,  that  I  came  to  Rome  and 
visited  you  in  the  hospital  before  you  recovered  your 
memory.  The  Contessa  was  very  anxious  to  know  the 
truth  about  her  old  friend's  son,  and  I  did  what  I 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  297 

could.  That  was  natural.  Something  told  me  that 
Corbario  had  tried  to  kill  you,  and  I  suspected  him,  but 
it  is  only  lately  that  I  have  got  all  the  evidence  we 
need.  There  is  not  a  link  lacking.  Well,  when  I 
came  to  Rome  that  time,  it  chanced  that  I  met  Corbario 
at  the  station.  He  had  come  by  the  same  train,  and 
was  looking  dreadfully  ill.  That  increased  my  suspi 
cion,  for  I  knew  that  his  anxiety  must  be  frightful, 
since  you  might  have  seen  him  when  he  struck  you, 
and  might  recognise  him,  and  accuse  him.  Yet  he 
could  not  possibly  avoid  meeting  you.  Imagine  what 
that  man  must  have  felt.  He  tried  to  smile  when  he 
saw  me,  and  said  he  wished  he  had  one  of  those  sleep 
ing  tablets  of  mine.  You  understand.  He  thought  I 
had  already  missed  the  one  he  had  taken,  though  I  had 
not,  and  that  he  had  better  disarm  any  possible  suspi 
cion  by  speaking  of  the  poison  carelessly.  Then  his 
face  turned  almost  yellow,  and  he  nearly  fainted.  He 
said  it  was  the  heat,  and  I  helped  him  to  his  carriage. 
He  looked  like  a  man  terrified  out  of  his  senses,  and  I 
remembered  the  fact  afterwards,  when  I  found  that  one 
tablet  had  been  stolen  ;  but  at  the  time  I  attributed  it 
all  to  his  fear  of  facing  you.  Now  we  know  the  truth. 
He  tried  to  murder  you,  and  on  the  same  day  he 
poisoned  your  mother." 

Kalmon  sat  quite  still  when  he  had  finished,  and  for 
a  long  time  Marcello  did  not  move,  and  made  no  sound. 
At  last  he  spoke  in  a  dull  voice. 

44 1  want  to  kill  him  myself." 

The  Professor  glanced  at  him  and  nodded  slowly,  as 


298  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

if  he  understood  the  simple  instinct  of  justice  that 
moved  him. 

"  If  I  see  him,  I  shall  kill  him,"  Marcello  said  slowly. 
"I  am  sure  I  shall." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  he  has  escaped,"  Kalmon  answered. 
44  Of  course  there  is  a  possibility  that  he  may  have  had 
some  object  in  deceiving  your  coachman  by  driving  to 
the  railway  station,  but  it  is  not  at  all  likely.  He 
probably  took  the  first  train  to  the  north." 

44  But  he  can  be  stopped  at  the  frontier  !  " 

44  Do  you  think  Corbario  is  the  man  to  let  himself  be 
trapped  easily  if  he  knows  that  he  is  pursued  ?  "  asked 
Kiilmon  incredulously.  "I  do  not." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down,  his  hands  behind  him  and  his  head  bent. 

Marcello  paid  no  attention  to  him  and  was  silent  for 
a  long  time,  sitting  quite  motionless  and  scarcely  seem 
ing  to  breathe.  What  he  felt  he  never  could  have  told 
afterwards;  he  only  knew  that  he  suffered  in  every 
fibre  of  his  brain  and  body,  with  every  nerve  of  his 
heart  and  in  every  secret  recess  of  his  soul.  His 
mother  seemed  to  have  been  dead  so  long,  beyond  the 
break  in  his  memory.  The  dreadful  truth  he  had  just 
heard  made  her  die  again  before  his  eyes,  by  the  hand 
of  the  man  whom  he  and  she  had  trusted. 

44  Kalmon,"  he  said  at  last,  and  the  Professor  stopped 
short  in  his  walk.  44  Kalmon,  do  you  think  she 


It  was  like  the  cry  of  a  child,  but  it  came  from  a 
man   who   was   already  strong.      Kalmon   could   only 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  299 

shake  his  head  gravely;  he  could  find  nothing  to  say 
in  answer  to  such  a  question,  and  yet  he  was  too 
human  and  kind  and  simple-hearted  not  to  understand 
the  words  that  rose  to  Marcello's  lips. 

"  Then  she  was  happy  to  the  end  —  then  she  still 
believes  in  him." 

Kalmon  turned  his  clear  eyes  thoughtfully  towards 
Marcello's  face. 

"  She  is  gone,"  he  answered.  "  She  knows  the  great 
secret  now.  The  rest  is  nothing  to  the  dead.  But  we 
are  living  and  it  is  much  to  us.  The  man  must  be 
brought  to  justice,  and  you  must  help  me  to  bring  him 
down,  if  we  have  to  hunt  him  round  the  world." 

"  By  God,  I  will !  "  said  Marcello,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  takes  a  solemn  obligation. 

He  rose  and  stood  upright,  as  if  he  were  ready,  and 
though  he  was  still  pale  there  was  no  look  of  weak 
horror  left  in  his  face,  nor  any  weakness  at  all. 

"  Good  !  "  exclaimed  Kalmon.  "  I  would  rather  see 
you  so.  Now  listen  to  me,  and  collect  your  thoughts, 
Marcello.  Ercole  is  in  Rome.  You  remember  Ercole, 
your  keeper  at  the  cottage  by  the  shore  ?  Yes.  I  got 
the  last  link  in  the  evidence  about  Corbario's  attack  on 
you  from  him  to-day.  He  is  a  strange  fellow.  He  has 
known  it  since  last  summer  and  has  kept  it  to  himself. 
But  he  is  one  of  those  diabolically  clever  peasants  that 
one  meets  in  the  Campagna,  and  he  must  have  his 
reasons.  I  told  him  to  sleep  at  my  house  to-night,  and 
when  I  went  home  he  was  sitting  up  in  the  entry  with 
his  dog.  I  have  sent  him  to  the  station  to  find  out 


300  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

whether  Corbario  really  left  or  not.  You  don't  think 
he  will  succeed?  I  tell  you  there  are  few  detectives  to 
be  compared  with  one  of  those  fellows  when  they  are 
on  the  track  of  a  man  they  hate.  I  told  him  to  come 
here,  no  matter  how  late  it  might  be,  since  he  is  your 
man.  I  suppose  he  can  get  in  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  There  is  a  night-bell  for  the  porter. 
Ercole  knows  that.  Besides,  the  porter  will  not  go  to 
bed  as  long  as  you  are  here.  While  we  are  waiting  for 
him,  tell  me  what  Ercole  has  found  out." 

They  sat  down  again,  and  Kalmon  told  Marcello  the 
sailor's  story  of  what  his  captain  had  seen  from  the 
deck  of  the  brigantine.  Marcello  listened  gravely. 

"  I  remember  that  there  was  a  small  vessel  very  far 
in,"  he  said.  "Aurora  will  remember  it,  too,  for  she 
watched  it  and  spoke  of  it.  We  thought  it  must  run 
aground  on  the  bar,  it  was  so  very  near." 

"  Yes.  She  remembers  it,  too.  The  evidence  is 
complete." 

There  was  silence  again.  Marcello  threw  another 
log  upon  the  fire,  and  they  waited.  Kalmon  smoked 
thoughtfully,  but  Marcello  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
covering  his  eyes  with  one  hand.  The  pain  had  not 
begun  to  be  dulled  yet,  and  he  could  only  sit  still  and 
bear  it. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  a  servant  said  that 
Ercole  was  waiting,  and  had  been  ordered  to  come,  no 
matter  how  late  it  was.  A  moment  later  he  appeared, 
and  for  once  without  his  dog. 

He  stood  before  the  door  as  it   closed  behind  him. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  301 

waiting  to  be  told  to  come  forward.  Marcello  spoke 
kindly  to  him. 

"  Come  here,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  long  time  since  we 
saw  each  other,  and  now  we  are  in  a  hurry." 

Ercole's  heavy  boots  rang  on  the  polished  floor  as  he 
obeyed  and  came  up  to  the  table.  He  looked  gloomily 
and  suspiciously  at  both  men. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Kalmon,  encouraging  him  to  speak. 

"  He  is  still  in  Rome,"  Ercole  answered.  "  How  do 
I  know  it  ?  I  began  to  ask  the  porters  and  the  under 
station-masters  who  wear  red  caps,  and  the  woman  who 
sells  newspapers  and  cigars  at  the  stand,  and  the  man 
who  clips  the  tickets  at  the  doors  of  the  waiting-rooms. 
4  Did  you  see  a  gentleman,  so  and  so,  with  a  servant,  so 
and  so,  and  much  luggage,  going  away  by  the  train  ? 
For  I  am  his  keeper  from  the  Roman  shore,  and  he  told 
me  to  be  here  when  he  went  away,  to  give  him  a  certain 
answer.'  So  I  said,  going  from  one  to  another,  and 
weeping  to  show  that  it  was  a  very  urgent  matter. 
And  many  shook  their  heads  and  laughed  at  me.  But 
at  last  a  porter  heard,  and  asked  if  the  gentleman  were 
so  and  so.  And  I  said  yes,  that  he  was  so  and  so,  and 
his  servant  was  so  and  so,  and  that  the  gentleman  was 
a  rich  gentleman.  And  the  porter  said,  4  See  what  a 
combination  !  That  is  the  gentleman  who  had  all  his 
luggage  brought  in  this  afternoon,  to  be  weighed  ;  but 
it  was  not  weighed,  for  he  came  back  after  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  took  some  small  things  and  had  them  put 
upon  a  cab,  but  the  other  boxes  were  left  in  deposit.' 
Then  I  took  out  four  sous  and  showed  them  to  the 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

porter,  and  he  led  me  to  a  certain  hall,  and  showed  me 
the  luggage,  which  is  that  of  the  man  we  seek,  and  it 
is  marked  4F.  C.'  So  when  I  had  seen,  I  made  a  show 
of  being  joyful,  and  gave  the  porter  five  sous  instead  of 
four.  And  he  was  very  contented.  This  is  the  truth. 
So  I  say,  he  is  still  in  Rome.'* 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Kalmon,  looking  at  Marcello. 

'•  Excuse  me,  but  what  did  you  tell  the  young  gentle 
man  ?  "  asked  Ercole  suspiciously. 

"  That  you  would  surely  find  out,"  Kalmon  answered. 

"I  have  found  out  many  things,"  said  Ercole 
gloomily. 

His  voice  was  very  harsh  just  then,  as  if  speaking 
so  much  hud  made  him  hoarse. 

"  He  took  some  of  his  things  away  because  he  meant 
to  spend  the  night  in  Rome,"  Kalmon  said  thought 
fully.  "  He  means  to  leave  to-morrow,  perhaps  by  an 
early  train.  If  we  do  not  find  him  to-night,  we  shall 
not  catch  him  in  Rome  at  all." 

"Surely,"  said  Ercole,  "but  Rome  is  very  big,  and 
it  is  late." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  still  raining  when  the  three  men  left  the 
villa,  and  the  night  was  very  dark,  for  the  young  moon 
had  already  set.  The  wind  howled  round  San  Pietro 
in  Montorio  and  the  Spanish  Academy,  and  whistled 
through  the  branches  of  the  plane-trees  along  the 
winding  descent,  and  furiously  tore  the  withering 
leaves.  They  struck  Ercole's  weather-beaten  face  as 
he  sat  beside  the  coachman  with  bent  head,  with  his 
soft  hat  pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  and  the  rain 
dripped  from  his  coarse  moustache.  Kalmon  and 
Marcello  leaned  as  far  back  as  they  could,  under  the 
deep  hood  and  behind  the  high  leathern  apron. 

"There  is  some  animal  following  us,"  the  cabman 
said  to  Ercole  as  they  turned  a  corner. 

"  It  is  my  dog,"  Ercole  answered. 

"  It  sounds  like  a  calf,"  said  the  cabman,  turning  his 
head  to  listen  through  the  storm. 

"  It  is  not  a  calf,"  answered  Ercole  gruffly.  "  It  is 
my  dog.  Or  if  you  wish  it  to  be  the  were-wolf,  it 
will  be  the  were-wolf." 

The  cabman  glanced  uneasily  at  his  companion  on 
the  box,  for  the  were-wolf  is  a  thing  of  terror  to 
Romans.  But  he  could  not  see  the  countryman's  fea 
tures  in  the  gloom,  and  he  hastened  his  horse's  pace 

303 


304  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

down  the  hill,  for  he  did  uot  like  the  sound  of  those 
galloping  feet  behind  his  cub,  in  that  lonely  road,  in 
the  dark  and  the  rain. 

"  Where  am  I  to  go?"  he  asked,  as  he  came  near  the 
place  where  a  turn  to  the  right  leads  out  of  the  Via 
Garibaldi  down  to  the  Via  Luciano  Manara. 

But  Kalmon  knew  where  they  were,  even  better  than 
Marcello,  to  whom  the  road  was  familiar  by  day  and 
night,  in  all  weathers. 

"  We  must  leave  that  message  first,"  said  the  Pro 
fessor  to  Marcello.  "  We  are  coming  to  the  turning." 

"  To  Santa  Cecilia,"  Marcello  called  out  to  the  cab 
man,  thrusting  his  head  forward  into  the  rain,  "  then  I 
will  tell  you  where  to  go." 

"  Santa  Cecilia,"  echoed  the  cabman. 

Ercole  growled  something  quite  unintelligible,  to 
which  his  companion  paid  no  attention,  and  the  cab 
rattled  on  through  the  rain  down  the  long  paved  street. 
It  made  such  a  noise  that  the  dog's  feet  could  not  be 
heard  any  more.  There  were  more  lamps,  too,  and  it 
seemed  less  gloomy  than  up  there  under  the  plane-trees, 
though  there  were  no  lights  in  the  windows  at  that 
late  hour. 

44  Now  to  the  right,"  said  Ercole,  as  they  reached  the 
back  of  Saint  Cecilia's  at  the  Via  Anicia. 

"  To  the  right  I  "  Marcello  called  out  a  second  later 
from  under  the  hood. 

"You  seem  to  know  the  way,"  said  the  cabman  to 
Ercole.  "  Why  don't  you  give  me  the  address  of  the 
house  at  once  and  be  done  with  it  ?  " 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  305 

"  I  know  the  house,  but  not  the  street,  nor  the 
number." 

"I  understand.  Does  your  dog  also  know  the 
house?" 

To  this  question  Ercole  made  no  answer,  for  he  con 
sidered  that  it  was  none  of  the  cabman's  business,  and, 
moreover,  he  regretted  having  shown  that  he  knew 
where  his  master  was  going.  Marcello  now  gave  the 
final  direction  to  the  cabman,  who  drew  up  before  a 
door  in  a  wall,  in  a  narrow  lane,  where  the  walls  were 
high  and  the  doors  were  few.  It  was  the  garden 
entrance  to  the  little  house  in  Trastevere. 

Marcello  got  out,  opened  the  door  with  the  key  he 
carried,  and  went  in.  It  was  raining  hard,  and  he  dis 
appeared  into  the  darkness,  shutting  the  door  behind 
him.  It  had  a  small  modern  lock  with  a  spring  latch 
that  clicked  sharply  as  it  shut.  The  cab  had  stopped 
with  the  door  on  the  left,  and  therefore  on  the  side  on 
which  Ercole  was  sitting.  Nino,  the  dog,  came  up 
from  behind,  with  his  tongue  hanging  out,  blood-red 
in  the  feeble  light  of  the  cab's  lamp ;  he  put  his  head 
up  above  the  low  front  wheel  to  have  a  look  at  Ercole. 
Being  satisfied,  he  at  once  lay  down  on  the  wet  stones, 
with  his  muzzle  towards  the  door. 

Two  or  three  minutes  passed  thus,  in  total  silence. 
The  cab-horse  hung  his  head  patiently  under  the  driv 
ing  rain,  but  neither  stamped  on  the  paving  stones  nor 
shook  himself,  nor  panted  audibly,  for  he  was  a  pretty 
good  horse,  as  cab-horses  go,  and  was  not  tired. 

Suddenly  Nino   growled  without  moving,  the    omi- 


80G  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

nous  low  growl  of  a  dog  that  can  kill,  and  Ercole 
growled  at  him  in  turn,  making  a  sound  intended  to 
impose  silence.  There  was  no  reason  why  Nino  should 
growl  at  Marcello.  But  Nino  rose  slowly  upon  his 
quarters,  as  if  he  were  about  to  spring  at  the  door,  and 
his  rough  coat  bristled  along  his  back.  Then  Ercole 
distinctly  heard  the  latch  click  as  it  had  done  when 
Murcello  went  in,  and  Nino  put  his  muzzle  to  the  crack 
of  the  closed  door  and  sniffed  up  and  down  it,  and  then 
along  the  stone  step.  To  Ercole  it  was  clear  that  some 
person  within  had  opened  the  door  noiselessly  a  little 
way  and  had  shut  it  again  rather  hurriedly,  on  hearing 
the  dog  and  seeing  the  cab.  Whoever  it  was  had 
wished  to  see  if  there  were  any  one  outside,  without 
being  seen,  or  perhaps  had  meant  to  slip  out  without 
being  heard  by  any  one  in  the  house. 

Kalmon,  leaning  back  inside,  had  not  heard  the  sound 
of  the  latch,  and  paid  no  attention  to  Nino's  growl.  It 
was  natural  that  such  an  animal  should  growl  and  snarl 
for  nothing,  he  thought,  especially  on  a  rainy  night, 
when  the  lamps  of  a  cab  throw  strange  patches  of  light 
on  the  glistening  pavement. 

There  was  some  reason  why  Ercole,  who  had  heard, 
did  not  get  down  and  tell  the  Professor,  who  had  no 
ticed  nothing.  One  reason,  and  a  good  enough  one, 
was  that  whoever  it  was  that  had  opened  the  door  so 
cautiously,  it  certainly  was  not  the  man  they  were  all 
hunting  that  night.  Yet  since  Ercole  knew  the  little 
house,  and  probably  knew  who  lived  there,  and  that  it 
belonged  to  Marcello,  it  might  have  been  supposed  that 


WHOSOEVEB,    SHALL    OFFEND  307 

he  would  have  told  the  latter,  whose  footsteps  were 
heard  on  the  gravel  a  few  moments  afterwards.  But 
though  Marcello  stood  a  moment  by  the  wheel  close  to 
Ercole,  and  spoke  across  him  to  the  cabman,  Ercole  said 
nothing.  Nino  had  not  growled  at  Marcello,  even  be 
fore  the  latter  had  appeared,  for  Nino  had  a  good  mem 
ory,  for  a  dog,  and  doubtless  remembered  long  days 
spent  by  the  Roman  shore,  and  copious  leavings  thrown 
to  him  from  luxurious  luncheons.  Before  they  had  left 
the  villa  he  had  sniffed  at  Marcello's  clothes  and  hands 
in  a  manner  that  was  meant  to  be  uncommonly  friendly, 
though  it  might  not  have  seemed  reassuring  to  a 
stranger ;  and  Marcello  had  patted  his  huge  head,  and 
called  him  by  name. 

The  young  man  had  given  the  cabman  the  address  of 
the  office  of  the  Chief  of  Police,  and  when  he  had  got  in 
and  hooked  up  the  leathern  apron,  the  cab  rolled  away 
over  the  stones  through  the  dark  streets,  towards  the 
bridge  of  Saint  Bartholomew. 

Within  the  house  Regina  sat  alone,  as  Marcello  had 
found  her,  her  chin  resting  on  the  back  of  her  closed 
hand,  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  her  eyes  gazing  at  the 
bright  little  fire  that  blazed  on  the  polished  hearth. 
Her  hair  was  knotted  for  the  night,  low  down  on  her 
neck,  and  the  loose  dressing-gown  of  dove-coloured  silk 
plush  was  unfastened  at  the  neck,  where  a  little  lace 
fell  about  her  strong  white  throat. 

She  had  sprung  to  her  feet  in  happy  surprise  when 
Marcello  had  entered  the  room,  though  it  was  not  two 
hours  since  he  had  left  her,  and  she  could  still  smell  the 


808  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

smoke  of  his  last  cigarette.  She  had  felt  a  sudden  chill 
when  she  had  seen  his  face,  for  she  never  saw  him  look 
grave  and  preoccupied  without  believing  that  he  had 
grown  suddenly  tired  of  her,  and  that  the  end  had 
come.  But  then  she  had  seen  his  eyes  lighten  for  her, 
and  she  had  known  that  he  was  not  tired  of  her,  but 
only  very  much  in  earnest  and  very  much  in  a  hurry. 

He  had  bidden  her  find  out  from  Settimia  where 
Corbario  was,  if  the  woman  knew  it ;  he  had  told  her 
to  find  out  at  any  cost,  and  had  put  a  great  deal  of 
emphasis  on  the  last  words.  In  answer  to  the  one 
question  she  asked,  he  told  her  that  Corbario  was  a 
murderer,  and  was  trying  to  escape.  He  had  not  time 
to  explain  more  fully,  but  he  knew  that  he  could  count 
on  her.  She  did  not  love  Folco  Corbario,  and  she 
came  of  a  race  that  could  hate,  for  it  was  the  race 
of  the  Roman  hill  peasants.  So  he  left  her  quickly  and 
went  on. 

But  when  he  was  gone,  Regina  sat  quite  still  for 
some  time,  looking  at  the  fire.  Settimia  was  safe  in 
her  own  room,  and  was  probably  asleep.  It  would  be 
soon  enough  to  wake  her  when  Regina  had  considered 
what  she  should  say  in  order  to  get  the  information 
Marcello  wanted.  Settimia  would  deny  having  had 
any  communication  with  Corbario,  or  that  she  knew 
anything  of  his  whereabouts.  The  next  step  would 
probably  be  to  tempt  her  with  money  or  other  pres 
ents.  If  this  failed,  what  was  to  be  done?  Somehow 
Regina  guessed  that  a  bribe  would  not  have  much 
effect  on  the  woman. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  809 

Marcello  had  wished  to  send  her  away  long  ago,  but 
Regina  had  persuaded  him  to  let  her  stay.  It  was  part 
of  her  hatred  of  Corbario  to  accumulate  proofs  against 
him,  and  they  were  not  lacking  in  the  letters  he  wrote 
to  Settimia.  Regina  could  not  understand  the  relation 
in  which  they  stood  to  each  other,  but  now  and  then 
she  had  found  passages  in  the  letters  which  referred 
neither  to  herself  nor  Marcello,  but  to  things  that  had 
happened  a  good  many  years  ago  in  another  country. 
She  was  convinced  that  the  two  had  once  been  com 
panions  in  some  nefarious  business,  of  which  they  had 
escaped  the  consequences.  It  was  her  intention  to  find 
out  exactly  what  the  deed  had  been,  and  then  to  bring 
Corbario  to  ruin  by  exposing  it.  It  was  a  simple 
scheme,  but  it  seemed  a  sure  one,  and  Regina  was  very 
patient.  Corbario  had  tried  to  separate  her  from  Mar- 
cello,  and  she  had  sworn  that  he  should  pay  her  for 
that;  and  besides,  he  had  wished  to  kill  Marcello  in 
order  to  get  his  money.  That  was  bad,  undoubtedly  — 
very  bad ;  but  to  her  peasant  mind  it  was  not  unnatural. 
She  had  heard  all  her  life  of  crimes  committed  for  the 
sake  of  an  inheritance  ;  and  so  have  most  of  us,  and  in 
countries  that  fondly  believe  themselves  much  more 
civilised  than  Italy.  That  was  extremely  wicked,  but 
the  attempt  had  failed,  and  it  sank  into  insignificance 
in  comparison  with  the  heinous  crime  of  trying  to  sepa 
rate  two  lovers  by  treachery.  That  was  what  Regina 
would  not  forgive  Corbario. 

Nor  would  she  pardon  Settimia,  who  had  been  Cor- 
bario's  instrument  and  helper;  and  as  she  meant  to 


310  WHOSUEVEH   SHALL  OFFEND 

include  the  woman  in  her  vengeance,  she  would  not  let 
her  go,  but  kept  her,  and  treated  her  so  generously  and 
unsuspiciously  that  Settimia  was  glad  to  stay,  since 
Corbario  still  wished  it. 

Regina  looked  at  the  little  travelling-clock  that  stood 
on  the  low  table  at  her  elbow,  and  saw  that  it  was  half- 
past  eleven.  Behind  the  drawn  curtains  she  could  hear 
the  rain  beating  furiously  against  the  shutters,  but  all 
was  quiet  within  the  house.  Regina  listened,  for  Set- 
timia's  room  was  overhead,  and  when  she  moved  about 
her  footsteps  could  be  heard  in  the  sitting-room.  Re 
gina  had  heard  her  just  before  Marcello  had  come  in, 
but  there  was  no  sound  now ;  she  had  probably  gone  to 
bed.  Regina  lit  a  candle  and  went  into  her  own  room. 

On  a  shelf  near  the  little  toilet-table  there  was  a  box, 
covered  with  old  velvet,  in  which  she  kept  the  few 
simple  pins  and  almost  necessary  bits  of  jewellery  which 
she  had  been  willing  to  accept  from  Marcello.  She 
took  it  down,  set  it  upon  the  toilet-table  and  opened  it. 
A  small  silver-mounted  revolver  lay  amongst  the  other 
things,  for  Marcello  had  insisted  that  she  should  have  a 
weapon  of  some  kind,  because  the  house  seemed  lonely 
to  him.  He  had  shown  her  how  to  use  it,  but  she  had 
forgotten.  She  took  it  out,  and  turned  it  over  and  over 
in  her  hands,  with  a  puzzled  look.  She  did  not  even 
know  whether  it  was  loaded  or  not,  and  did  not  remem 
ber  how  to  open  the  chamber.  She  wondered  how  the 
thing  worke'd,  and  felt  rather  afraid  of  it.  Besides,  if 
she  had  to  use  it,  it  would  make  a  dreadful  noise  ;  so 
she  put  it  back  carefully  amongst  the  tilings. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  311 

There  were  the  cheap  little  earrings  she  had  worn 
ever  since  she  had  been  a  child,  till  Marcello  had  made 
her  take  them  out  and  wear  none  at  all.  There  was  a 
miserable  little  brooch  of  tarnished  silver  which  she  had 
bought  with  her  own  money  at  a  country  fair,  and 
which  had  once  seemed  very  fine  to  her.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  sentiment  about  such  trifles,  for  Italian 
peasants  are  altogether  the  least  sentimental  people  in 
the  world  ;  the  things  were  not  even  good  enough  to 
give  to  Settimia,  and  yet  it  seemed  wrong  to  throw 
them  away,  so  she  had  always  kept  them,  with  a  vague 
idea  of  giving  them  to  some  poor  little  girl,  to  whom 
they  would  represent  happiness.  With  them  lay  the 
long  pin  she  used  to  stick  through  her  hair  on  Sundays 
when  she  went  to  church. 

It  had  been  her  mother's,  and  it  was  the  only  thing 
she  possessed  which  had  belonged  to  the  murdered 
woman  who  had  given  her  birth.  It  was  rather  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  pins  worn  by  the  hill  peasant  women, 
and  was  made  like  a  little  cross-hilted  sword,  with  a  blade 
of  fire-gilt  steel  about  eight  inches  long.  A  little  gilt 
ball  was  screwed  upon  the  point,  intended  to  keep  the 
pin  from  coming  out  after  it  was  thrust  through  the 
hair.  Regina  took  the  ball  off  and  felt  the  point, 
which  was  as  sharp  as  that  of  a  pen-knife  ;  and  she 
tried  the  blade  with  her  hands  and  found  that  it  did 
not  bend  easily.  It  was  strong  enough  for  what  she 
wanted  of  it.  She  stuck  it  through  the  heavy  knot  of 
her  hair,  rather  low  down  at  the  back  of  her  neck,  where 
she  could  easily  reach  it  with  her  right  hand  ;  but  she 


312  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

did  not  screw  on  the  ball.  It  was  not  likely  that  the  pin 
would  full  out.  She  was  very  deliberate  in  all  she  did  ; 
she  even  put  up  her  hand  two  or  three  times,  without 
looking  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  to  be  quite  sure  where 
to  find  the  hilt  of  the  pin  if  she  should  need  it.  Mar- 
cello  had  told  her  to  get  the  information  he  wanted  "  at 
any  cost." 

Then  she  went  back,  with  her  candle,  through  the 
cheerful  sitting-room,  and  out  through  a  small  vestibule 
that  was  now  dark,  and  up  the  narrow  staircase  to  find 
Settimia. 

She  knocked,  and  the  woman  opened,  and  Regina 
was  a  little  surprised  to  see  that  she  was  still  dressed. 
She  was  pale,  and  looked  very  anxious  as  she  faced  her 
mistress  in  the  doorway. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  rather  nervously. 

"Nothing,"  Regina  answered  in  a  reassuring  tone. 
"I  had  forgotten  to  tell  you  about  a  little  change  I 
want  in  the  trimming  of  that  hat,  and  as  I  heard  you 
moving  about,  I  came  up  before  going  to  bed." 

Settimia  had  taken  off  her  shoes  more  than  half  an 
hour  earlier  in  order  to  make  no  noise,  and  her  suspi 
cions  and  her  fears  were  instantly  aroused.  She  drew 
her  lids  together  a  little  and  looked  over  Regina's  shoul 
der  through  the  open  door  towards  the  dark  staircase. 
She  was  not  a  tall  woman,  and  was  slightly  made,  but  she 
was  energetic  and  could  be  quick  when  she  chose,  as 
Regina  knew.  Regina  quietly  shut  the  door  behind  her 
and  came  forward  into  the  room,  carrying  her  candle- 
stick,which  she  set  down  upon  the  table  near  the  lamp. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  313 

"  Where  is  that  hat?  "  she  asked,  so  naturally  that  the 
woman  began  to  think  nothing  was  wrong  after  all. 

Settimia  turned  to  cross  the  room,  in  order  to  get  the 
hat  in  question  from  a  pasteboard  bandbox  that  stood 
on  the  floor.  Regina  followed  her,  and  stood  beside 
her  as  she  bent  down. 

Then  without  the  slightest  warning  Regina  caught 
her  arms  from  behind  and  threw  her  to  her  knees,  so 
that  she  was  forced  to  crouch  down,  her  head  almost 
touching  the  floor.  She  was  no  more  than  a  child  in 
the  peasant  woman's  hands  as  soon  as  she  was  fairly 
caught.  But  she  did  not  scream,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
keeping  her  senses  about  her. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  "  she  asked,  speaking 
with  difficulty. 

Policemen  know  that  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred 
criminals  ask  that  question  when  they  are  taken. 

"  I  want  to  know  several  things,"  Regina  answered. 

"  Let  me  go,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I  can." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  Regina  replied,  looking  about  her 
for  something  with  which  to  tie  the  woman's  hands,  for 
she  had  forgotten  that  this  might  be  necessary.  "  I 
shall  not  let  you  go  until  I  know  everything." 

She  felt  that  Settimia's  thin  hands  were  cautiously 
trying  the  strength  of  her  own  and  turning  a  very  little 
in  her  grasp.  She  threw  her  weight  upon  the  woman's 
shoulders  to  keep  her  down,  grasped  both  wrists  in 
one  hand,  and  with  the  other  tore  off  the  long  silk 
cord  that  tied  her  own  dressing-gown  at  the  waist.  It 
was  new  and  strong. 


X^nl^*>V 

ff  Of  THF    ^X 

I  UNIVERSITY) 
Vc,...0'        J 


314  WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND 

"  You  had  better  not  struggle,"  she  said,  as  she  got 
the  first  turn  round  Settiinia's  wrists  and  began  to 
pull  it  ti.urht.  "You  are  in  ray  power  now.  It  is 
of  no  use  to  scream  either,  for  nobody  will  hear  you." 

"  I  know  it,"  the  woman  replied.  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  me?" 

"  I  shall  ask  questions.  If  you  answer  them,  I 
shall  not  hurt  you.  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  hurt  you 
until  you  do,  or  until  you  die.  Now  I  am  going  to 
tie  your  wrists  to  your  heels,  so  that  you  cannot 
move.  Then  I  will  put  a  pillow  under  your  head, 
so  that  you  can  be  pretty  comfortable  while  we  talk  a 
little." 

She  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  which  terrified 
Settimia  much  more  than  any  dramatic  display  of 
anger  or  hatred  could  have  done.  In  a  few  moments 
the  woman  was  bound  hand  and  foot.  Regina  turned 
her  upon  her  side,  and  arranged  a  pillow  under  her 
head  as  she  had  promised  to  do.  Then  she  sat  down 
upon  the  floor  beside  the  pillow  and  looked  at  her 
calmly. 

"  In  this  way  we  can  talk,"  she  said. 

Settimia's  rather  stony  eyes  were  wide  with  fear 
now,  as  she  lay  on  her  side,  watching  Regina's  face. 

"  I  have  always  served  you  faithfully,"  she  said.  "  I 
cannot  understand  why  you  treat  me  so  cruelly." 

"Yes,"  Regina  answered,  unmoved,  "you  have  been 
an  excellent  maid,  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  obliged 
to  tie  you  up  like  the  calves  that  are  taken  to  the  city 
on. carts.  Now  tell  me,  where  is  Signor  Corbario?" 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  315 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  whined  Settimia,  evidently 
more  frightened.  "  I  know  nothing  about  Signor 
Corbario.  I  swear  that  I  have  hardly  ever  seen  him. 
How  can  I  possibly  know  where  he  is?  He  is  prob 
ably  at  his  house,  at  this  hour." 

"No.  You  know  very  well  that  he  has  left  the 
villa.  It  will  not  serve  to  tell  lies,  nor  to  say  that 
you  know  nothing  about  him,  for  I  am  sure  you  do. 
Now  listen.  I  wish  to  persuade  you  with  good  words. 
You  and  Signor  Corbario  were  in  South  America 
together." 

Settimia's  face  expressed  abject  terror. 

"  Never  !  "  she  cried,  rocking  her  bound  body  side 
ways  in  an  instinctive  attempt  to  emphasise  her  words 
by  a  gesture.  "  I  swear  before  heaven,  and  the  saints, 
and  the  holy — " 

"  It  is  useless,"  Regina  interrupted.  "  You  have  not 
forgotten  what  you  and  he  did  in  Salta  ten  years  ago. 
You  remember  how  suddenly  Padilla  died,  when 
'Doctor'  Corbario  was  attending  him,  and  you  were 
his  nurse,  don't  you?" 

She  fixed  her  eyes  sternly  on  Settimia's,  and  the 
woman  turned  livid,  and  ground  her  teeth. 

"  You  are  the  devil !  "  she  said  hoarsely.  "  But  it 
is  all  a  lie !  "  she  cried,'  suddenly  trying  denial  again. 
"  I  was  never  in  South  America,  never,  never,  never  ! " 

"  This  is  a  lie,"  observed  Regina,  with  perfect  calm. 
"  If  you  do  not  tell  me  where  Signor  Corbario  is 
to-night,  I  shall  go  to  the  police  to-morrow  and  tell 
all  I  know  about  you." 


316  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  You  know  nothing.  What  is  all  this  that  you  are 
inventing  ?  You  are  a  wicked  woman  !  " 

"  Take  care  !  Perhaps  I  am  a  wicked  woman.  Who 
knows  !  I  am  not  a  saint,  but  you  are  not  my  con 
fessor.  It  is  the  contrary,  perhaps  ;  and  perhaps 
you  will  have  to  confess  to  me  this  night,  before  going 
to  the  other  world,  if  you  confess  at  all.  Where  is 
Signor  Corbario  ?  " 

As  she  asked  the  question,  she  quietly  took  the  long 
pin  from  her  hair  and  began  to  play  with  the  point. 

44  Are  you  going  to  murder  me  ? "  groaned  the 
wretched  woman,  watching  the  terrible  little  weapon. 

"  I  should  not  call  it  murder  to  kill  you.  This 
point  is  sharp.  Should  you  like  to  feel  it?  You 
shall.  In  this  way  you  will  perhaps  be  persuaded  to 
speak." 

She  gently  pressed  the  point  against  Settimia's 
cheek. 

"  Don't  move,  or  you  will  scratch  yourself,"  she  said, 
as  the  woman  tried  to  draw  back  her  face.  "  Now,  will 
you  tell  me  where  Signor  Corbario  is  ?  I  want  to 
know." 

Settimia  must  have  feared  Corbario  more  than  she 
feared  Regina  and  the  sharp  pin  at  that  moment,  for 
she  shook  her  head  and  set  her  teeth.  Perhaps  she 
believed  that  Regina  was  only  threatening  her,  and 
did  not  mean  to  do  her  any  real  bodily  hurt ;  but 
in  this  she  was  misled  by  Regina's  very  quiet 
manner. 

44 1  shall  wait  a  little  while,"  said    Regina,  almost 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  317 

indifferently,  "  and  then,  if  you  do  not  tell  me,  I  shall 
begin  to  kill  you.  It  may  take  a  long  time,  and  you 
will  scream  a  good  deal,  but  nobody  will  hear  you. 
Now  think  a  little,  and  decide  what  you  will  do." 

Regina  laid  the  pin  upon  the  floor  beside  her,  drew  up 
her  knees,  and  clasped  her  hands  together  over  them, 
as  the  hill  women  often  sit  for  hours  when  they  are 
waiting  for  anything. 

Her  face  hardened  slowly  until  it  had  an  expression 
which  Marcello  had  never  seen.  It  was  not  a  look  of 
cruelty,  nor  of  fierce  anticipated  satisfaction  in  what 
she  meant  to  do  ;  it  was  simply  cold  and  relentless, 
and  Settimia  gazed  with  terror  on  the  splendid  marble 
profile,  so  fearfully  distinct  against  the  dark  wall  in 
the  bright  light  of  the  lamp.  The  strength  of  the 
woman,  quietly  waiting  to  kill,  seemed  to  fill  the  room  ; 
her  figure  seemed  to  grow  gigantic  in  the  terrified  eyes 
of  her  prisoner  ;  the  slow,  regular  heave  of  her  bosom 
as  she  breathed  was  telling  the  seconds  and  minutes 
of  fate,  that  would  never  reach  an  hour. 

It  is  bad  to  see  death  very  near  when  one  is  tied  hand 
and  foot  and  cannot  fight  for  life.  Most  people  cannot 
bear  the  sight  quietly  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  they 
break  down  altogether,  or  struggle  furiously,  like 
animals,  though  they  know  it  is  perfectly  useless 
and  that  they  have  no  chance.  Anything  is  easier 
than  to  lie  still,  watching  the  knife  and  wondering 
when  and  where  it  is  going  to  enter  into  the  flesh. 

Regina  sat  thinking  and  ready.  She  wished  that  she 
had  Corbario  himself  in  her  power,  but  it  was  some- 


818  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

thing  to  have  the  woman  who  had  helped  him.  She 
was  very  glad  that  she  had  insisted  on  keeping  Settimia 
in  spite  of  Marcello's  remonstrances.  It  had  made  it 
possible  to  obtain  the  information  he  wanted,  and  which, 
she  felt  sure,  was  to  lead  to  Corbario's  destruction. 
She  was  to  find  out  "  at  any  cost "  ;  those  had  been 
Marcello's  words,  and  she  supposed  he  knew  that  she 
would  obey  him  to  the  letter.  For  she  said  to  herself 
that  he  was  the  master,  and  that  if  she  did  not  obey  him 
in  such  a  matter,  when  he  seemed  so  much  in  earnest, 
he  would  be  disappointed,  and  angry,  and  would  then 
grow  quickly  tired  of  her,  and  so  the  end  would  come. 
"At  any  cost,"  as  he  had  said  it  in  his  haste,  meant  to 
Regina  at  the  cost  of  blood,  and  life,  and  limb,  if  need 
were.  Corbario  was  the  enemy  of  the  man  she  loved; 
it  was  her  lover's  pleasure  to  find  out  his  enemy  and  to 
be  revenged  at  last ;  what  sort  of  woman  must  she  be 
if  she  did  not  help  him  ?  what  was  her  love  worth  if 
she  did  not  obey  him  ?  He  had  been  always  kind  to 
her,  and  more  than  kind  ;  but  it  would  have  been  quite 
the  same  if  he  had  treated  her  worse  than  a  dog,  pro 
vided  lie  did  not  send  her  away  from  him.  She  be 
longed  to  him,  and  he  was  the  master,  to  do  as  he 
pleased.  If  he  sent  her  away,  she  would  go;  but  if 
not,  he  might  have  beaten  her  and  she  would  never 
have  complained.  Now  that  he  had  given  a  simple 
command,  she  was  not  going  to  disobey  him.  She  had 
pride,  but  it  was  not  for  him,  and  in  her  veins  the  blood  j 
of  sixty  generations  of  slaves  and  serfs  had  come  do\\  n 
to  her  through  two  thousand  years,  the  blood  of  men 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  319 

who  had  killed  when  they  were  bidden  to  kill  by  their 
masters,  whose  masters  had  killed  them  like  sheep  in 
war  and  often  in  peace,  of  women  who  had  been  reck 
oned  as  goods  and  as  chattels  with  the  land  on  which 
their  mothers  had  borne  them  —  of  men  and  women  too 
often  familiar  with  murder  and  sudden  death  from  their 
cradles  to  their  graves. 

The  minutes  passed  and  Settimia's  terror  grew  till 
the  room  swam  with  her,  and  she  lost  hold  upon  her 
self,  and  did  not  know  whether  she  screamed  or  was 
silent,  as  her  parched  lips  opened  wide  upon  her  parted 
teeth.  But  she  had  made  no  sound,  and  Regina  did 
not  even  look  at  her.  Death  had  not  come  yet;  there 
was  a  respite  of  seconds,  perhaps  of  minutes. 

At  last  Regina  unclasped  her  hands  and  took  up  the 
pin  again.  The  miserable  woman  fancied  that  she  al 
ready  felt  the  little  blade  creeping  through  her  flesh 
and  blood  on  its  way  to  her  heart.  For  Regina  had 
said  she  would  take  a  long  time  to  kill  her.  It  must 
have  been  a  strong  reason  that  could  keep  her  silent 
still,  if  she  knew  the  answer  to  the  question. 

Regina  turned  her  head  very  slowly  and  looked 
coldly  down  at  the  agonised  face. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said.     "  I  cannot  wait  any  longer." 

Settimia's  eyes  seemed  to  be  starting  from  her  head, 
and  her  dry  lips  were  stretched  till  they  cracked,  and 
she  thought  she  had  screamed  again ;  but  she  had  not, 
for  her  throat  was  paralysed  with  fear.  Regina  rose 
upon  her  knees  beside  the  pillow,  with  the  pin  in  her 
right  hand. 


320  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44  Where  is  Corbario?"  she  asked,  looking  down. 
"If  you  will  not  tell  I  shall  hurt  you." 

Settimia's  lips  moved,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  speak, 
but  no  words  came  from  them.  Regina  got  up  from 
the  floor,  went  to  the  washstand  and  poured  some 
water  into  the  glass,  for  she  thought  it  possible  that 
the  woman  was  really  unable  to  utter  a  sound  because 
her  throat  was  parched  with  fear.  But  she  could 
speak  a  little  as  soon  as  Regina  left  her  side,  and  the 
last  peril  seemed  a  few  seconds  less  near. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  don't  kill  me  yet,"  she 
moaned.  "  Let  me  speak  first ! " 

Regina  came  back,  knelt  down,  and  set  the  glass 
on  the  floor,  beside  the  pin. 

"That  is  all  I  want,"  she  said  quietly,  "that  you 
should  speak." 

"  Water,"  moaned  Settimia,  turning  her  eyes  to  the 
glass. 

Regina  held  up  her  head  a  little  and  set  the  tumbler 
to  her  lips,  and  she  drank  eagerly.  The  fear  of  death 
is  more  parching  than  wound-fever  or  passion. 

"  Now  you  can  surely  talk  a  little,"  Regina  said. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  know  where  he  is?  "  Settimia 
asked  in  a  weak  voice.  "Are  the  police  looking  for 
him?  What  has  he  done?  Why  do  you  want  me  to 
betray  him?" 

"  These  are  too  many  questions,"  Regina  answered. 
"  I  have  been  told  to  make  you  tell  where  he  is,  and  I 
will.  That  is  enough." 

"  I  do  not  know  where  he  is." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  321 

In  an  instant  the  point  of  the  sharp  little  blade  was 
pressing  against  the  woman's  throat,  harder  and  harder  ; 
one  second  more  and  it  would  pierce  the  skin  and  draw 
blood. 

"  Stop,"  she  screamed,  with  a  convulsion  of  her  whole 
body.  "  He  is  in  the  house  I  " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WITH  a  single  movement  Regina  was  on  her  feet,  for 
she  had  been  taken  by  surprise,  and  her  first  instinct 
was  to  be  ready  for  some  new  and  unsuspected  danger. 
In  a  flash  it  seemed  to  her  that  since  Corbario  was  in 
the  house,  he  might  very  possibly  enter  suddenly  and 
take  Settimia's  defence.  Regina  was  not  afraid  of  him, 
but  she  was  only  a  woman  after  all,  and  Corbario  was 
not  a  man  to  stop  at  trifles.  He  was  very  likely  armed, 
and  would  perhaps  shoot  her,  in  order  to  make  good  his 
escape  with  Settimia,  unless,  as  was  quite  probable,  he 
killed  his  old  accomplice  too,  before  leaving  the  room. 

Regina  stood  still  a  moment,  reflecting  on  the  danger 
ous  situation.  It  certainly  would  not  be  safe  to  release 
Settimia  yet;  for  if  Corbario  were  really  in  the  house, 
the  two  together  could  easily  overpower  one  woman, 
though  she  was  strong. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  untie  you  yet,"  Regina 
said,  and  with  a  glance  at  the  prostrate  figure  she  took 
up  her  candle-stick,  stuck  her  pin  through  her  hair 
before  the  mirror,  and  went  to  the  door. 

She  took  the  key  from  the  lock,  put  it  back  on  the 
outside,  and  turned  it,  and  put  it  into  her  pocket  when 
she  had  shut  the  door  after  her.  Then  she  slowly 
descended  the  stairs,  stopping  now  and  then  to  listen. 

322 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  328 

and  shading  her  candle  with  her  hand  so  that  she  could 
see  over  it,  for  she  expected  to  be  attacked  at  any 
moment.  At  the  slightest  sound  she  would  have 
snatched  her  pin  from  her  hair  again,  but  she  heard 
nothing,  and  went  cautiously  down  till  she  reached  the 
vestibule  outside  the  sitting-room.  She  entered  the 
latter  and  sat  down  to  think. 

Should  she  boldly  search  the  house  ?  Settimia  could 
hardly  have  had  any  object  in  lying.  If  she  had  meant 
to  frighten  Regina,  she  would  have  spoken  very  differ 
ently.  She  would  have  made  out  that  Corbario  was 
almost  within  hearing,  waiting  in  a  dark  corner  with 
a  loaded  revolver.  But  her  words  had  been  the  cry 
of  truth,  uttered  to  save  her  life  at  the  moment 
when  death  was  actually  upon  her.  She  would  have 
screamed  out  the  truth  just  as  certainly  if  Corbario  had 
already  left  Rome,  or  if  he  were  in  some  hotel  for  the 
night  —  or  even  if  she  had  really  known  nothing.  In 
the  last  case  Regiria  would  have  believed  her,  and 
would  have  let  her  go.  There  is  no  mistaking  the 
accent  of  mortal  terror,  whether  one  has  ever  heard  it 
or  not. 

Corbario  was  somewhere  in  the  house,  Marcello's 
enemy,  and  the  man  she  herself  had  long  hated.  A 
wild  longing  came  over  her  to  have  him  in  her  power, 
bound  hand  and  foot  like  Settimia,  and  then  to  torment 
him  at  her  pleasure  until  he  died.  She  felt  the  strength 
of  half  a  dozen  men  in  her,  and  the  courage  of  an  army, 
as  she  rose  to  her  feet  once  more.  She  had  seen  him. 
He  was  not  a  big  man.  If  she  could  catch  him  from 


824  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

behind,  as  she  had  caught  the  woman,  she  might  perhaps 
overpower  him.  With  the  thought  of  near  revenge  the 
last  ray  of  caution  disappeared,  and  from  being  fearless 
Regina  became  suddenly  reckless. 

But  as  she  rose,  she  heard  a  sound  overhead,  and  it 
was  the  unmistakable  sound  of  footsteps.  She  started 
in  surprise.  It  was  simply  impossible  that  Settiraia 
should  have  loosed  the  cord  that  bound  her.  Regina 
had  been  brought  up  in  the  low  hill  country  and  in  the 
Campagna,  and  she  could  tie  some  of  the  knots  used  by 
Roman  muleteers  and  carters,  which  hold  as  well  as 
those  men  learn  at  sea.  She  had  tied  Settimia  very 
firmly,  and  short  of  a  miracle  the  woman  could  not 
have  freed  herself.  Yet  the  footsteps  had  been  dis 
tinctly  audible  for  a  moment.  Since  Settimia  was  not 
walking  about,  Corbario  must  have  got  into  the  room. 
Yet  Regina  had  locked  the  door,  and  had  the  key  in 
her  pocket.  It  was  perfectly  incomprehensible.  She 
left  the  sitting-room  again,  carrying  her  candle  as  be 
fore  ;  but  at  the  door  she  turned  back,  and  set  the 
candle-stick  upon  the  table.  She  would  be  safer  in  the 
dark,  and  would  have  a  better  chance  of  taking  Corbario 
by  surprise. 

Poor  Regina  had  not  grown  up  amongst  people  who 
had  a  high  standard  of  honour,  and  her  own  ideas  about 
right  and  wrong  were  primitive,  to  speak  charitably. 
But  if  she  had  dreamt  of  the  deed  that  was  being  done 
upstairs,  her  heart  would  have  stood  still,  and  she  would 
have  felt  sick  at  the  mere  thought  of  such  villainy. 

She  had  left  the  room  and  locked  the  door,  and  while 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  325 

her  footsteps  had  been  audible  on  the  stairs  no  other 
sound  had  broken  the  stillness.  But  a  few  seconds 
later  a  whispered  question  came  from  some  person  out 
of  sight. 

44  Is  she  gone  ?  "  the  whisper  asked. 

44  Yes,"  answered  Settimia  in  a  very  low  voice,  which 
she  knew  Regina  could  not  hear. 

Corbario's  pale  face  cautiously  emerged  from  the 
closet  in  which  he  had  been  hidden,  and  he  looked 
round  the  room  before  he  stepped  out.  Settimia  could 
not  turn  over  to  see  him,  but  she  heard  him  coming 
towards  her. 

44  Cut  this  cord,"  she  said  in  an  undertone.  44  Make 
haste !  We  can  be  out  of  the  house  in  less  than  half 
a  minute." 

Corbario  knelt  beside  her,  and  took  out  a  handsome 
English  clasp-knife.  But  he  did  not  cut  the  cord.  He 
looked  down  into  Settimia's  face,  and  she  understood. 

44 1  could  not  help  it,"  she  answered.  44She  would 
have  killed  me  ! " 

Corbario  laid  his  left  hand  upon  her  throat. 

44  If  you  try  to  scream  I  shall  strangle  you,"  he  said 
in  a  whisper.  44  You  have  betrayed  me,  and  I  cannot 
afford  to  trust  you  again.  Do  you  know  what  I  am 
going  to  do  ?  " 

She  tried  to  turn  her  head,  but  his  hand  was  heavy 
on  her  throat.  She  strained  frightfully  to  move,  and 
her  stony  eyes  lit  up  with  a  dying  glare  of  terror. 

44  Do  it  quickly !  "  she  gasped. 

M  Hush  ! "     His  hand  tightened  on  her  throat.     44  If 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

you  were  in  Salta,  you  should  die  by  tenths  of  inches, 
if  it  took  all  night!  That  would  be  too  good  for  you." 

He  spat  in  her  face  as  she  writhed  under  his  grasp. 
He  looked  into  her  living  eyes  once  more  with  all  the 
cowardly  hate  that  possessed  him,  he  struck  deep  and 
sure,  he  saw  the  light  break  in  the  pupils,  and  heard  the 
awful  rattle  of  her  last  breath. 

In  an  instant  he  was  at  the  window,  and  had  thrown 
it  wide  open.  He  got  out  quickly,  let  himself  down 
with  his  hands,  and  pushed  himself  away  from  the  wall 
with  his  feet  as  he  jumped  down  backwards,  well  know 
ing  that  there  was  grass  below  him,  and  that  the  earth 
was  as  soft  as  sponge  with  the  long  rain.  He  was 
sure  that  he  could  not  hurt  himself.  Yet  before  his 
feet  touched  the  ground  he  had  uttered  a  low  cry  of 
fear. 

He  was  on  his  legs  now  and  trying  to  run,  but  it  was 
too  late.  There  was  the  flash  of  a  lantern  in  the  wet 
garden,  and  between  him  and  the  light,  and  just  below 
it,  he  saw  two  points  of  greenish  fire  coming  at  him  ; 
for  he  saw  everything  then ;  and  he  heard  the  rush  of 
a  heavy  beast's  feet,  tearing  up  the  earth  with  iron 
claws,  and  the  savage  breath,  and  the  loud  hiss  of  a  man 
setting  the  creature  on  ;  for  he  heard  every  sound  then  ; 
and  he  knew  that  the  thing  of  terror  would  leap  up 
with  resistless  strength  and  hurl  its  weight  upon  him, 
and  bury  its  jagged  fangs  in  his  throat  and  tear  him,  in 
an  instant  that  would  seem  like  an  hour  of  agony,  and 
that  the  pain  and  the  fear  would  be  as  if  he  were 
hung  up  by  all  the  nerves  of  his  body,  drawn  out  and 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  327 

twisted ;  for  he  knew  everything  then ;  and  in  that 
immeasurable  time  which  is  nothing,  and  yet  is  infinite, 
he  remembered  his  evil  life,  his  robberies,  his  murders, 
and  his  betrayals,  one  by  one,  but  he  remembered  with 
most  frightful  clearness  how  he  had  tried  to  kill  Mar- 
cello,  how  he  had  corrupted  him  from  his  childhood, 
with  bad  counsels  very  cunningly,  and  prepared  him 
to  go  astray,  how  he  had  thrust  evil  in  his  path  and 
laughed  away  the  good,  and  had  led  him  on,  and  poi 
soned  him,  and  would  have  brought  him  to  his  death 
and  damnation  surely,  but  for  one  sinning  devoted 
woman  that  loved  him  ;  for  he  remembered  everything 
then ;  and  from  very  far  away,  out  of  memories  of  his 
youth,  there  came  a  voice  that  had  once  been  gentle 
and  kind,  but  that  rang  in  his  ears  now,  like  the  blast 
of  the  trumpet  of  the  last  judgment. 

"Whosoever  shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones 
which  believe  in  Me,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  mill 
stone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were 
drowned  in  the  depth  pf  the  sea." 

Far  better,  indeed,  for  it  all  came,  when  the  immeasur 
able  second's  length  was  past,  and  he  was  thrown  down 
against  the  wall,  and  torn,  and  shaken  like  a  rat ;  it  all 
came  just  as  he  had  felt  that  it  was  coming,  and  it 
lasted  long,  a  long,  long  time,  while  he  tried  to  howl, 
and  the  blood  only  gurgled  in  his  throat.  And  then, 
just  as  many  strong  hands  dragged  away  the  thing  of 
terror,  and  the  light  of  a  lantern  and  of  a  lamp  flashed 
in  his  eyes,  he  fell  asleep  in  the  wet  grass. 

For   they  had  caught   him   fairly  and   brought   him 


828  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

down.  Kalmon  had  watched  him  long,  and  had  told 
some  of  his  suspicions  to  the  Chief  of  Police,  and  the 
latter,  unknown  to  Kalmon,  had  caused  him  to  be 
watched  from  time  to  time.  But  he,  who  had  been 
watched  before  Jind  had  once  already  escaped  for  his 
life,  had  sometimes  seen  faces  near  him  that  he  did  not 
trust,  and  when  he  had  turned  back  from  the  station 
that  afternoon  he  had  seen  one  of  those  faces;  so  he  had 
driven  away  quickly  in  a  cab,  by  winding  ways,  so  as 
not  to  be  followed.  Yet  Kalmon  and  Marcello,  talking 
as  they  drove,  grew  more  and  more  sure  that  he  would 
wish  to  see  Settimia  before  he  left  Rome,  the  more 
certainly  if  he  believed  himself  pursued,  as  seemed 
likely  from  his  changing  his  mind  at  the  station.  So 
they  had  stopped  their  cab  before  they  had  reached 
their  destination,  and  had  sent  Ercole  back  to  Tras- 
tevere  with  the  key  of  the  garden  gate,  bidding  him 
watch,  as  it  was  most  probable  that  Corbario  would  try 
to  get  out  through  the  garden;  and  before  long  they 
had  come  back  to  the  door  of  the  house  that  opened 
upon  the  street,  and  had  let  themselves  in  quietly,  just 
in  time  to  hear  the  noise  of  the  struggle  as. the  dog 
threw  Corbario  to  the  ground.  For  the  other  entrance 
to  the  little  vestibule  opened  upon  the  garden  within,  at 
the  very  spot  where  Corbario  alighted  when  he  jumped 
from  the  window. 

And  now  they  stood  there  in  the  rain  round  the 
wounded  man,  while  Marcello  held  the  lantern  to  his 
face,  and  Regina  thrust  a  lamp  out  of  the  lower  window 
which  she  had  thrown  open. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  329 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  she  asked,  in  the  silence  that  followed 
when  Ercole  had  got  control  of  the  dog  again. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  Ercole  started  strangely 
and  looked  up  to  her  face  that  was  not  far  above 
his  own,  and  his  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  her  so 
intently  that  she  looked  down  at  him,  while  she  still 
held  out  her  lamp.  She  could  not  remember  that 
she  had  ever  seen  him  ;  but  he  had  seen  her  many 
times  since  he  had  made  his  visit  to  the  inn  on  the 
Frascati  road. 

"  Is  he  dead  ? "  she  repeated,  putting  the  question 
directly  to  him  as  he  was  nearest. 

Still  he  looked  at  her  in  silence,  with  his  deep-set, 
unwinking  eyes.  Marcello  and  Kalmon  were  bending 
over  Corbario,  Marcello  holding  the  lantern,  while  the 
Professor  listened  for  the  beating  of  the  heart  and  felt 
the  pulse.  They  paid  no  attention  to  Regina  for  the 
moment. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ? "  she  asked,  surprised  by 
Ercole's  silent  stare. 

"You  don't  know  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "but  I  know 
you." 

The  rain  was  beating  upon  her  lamp,  and  at  that 
moment  the  shade  cracked  under  the  cold  drops  and  fell 
to  pieces,  and  the  wind  instantly  extinguished  the  flame 
of  the  flaring  wick.  Regina  withdrew  into  the  room  to 
get  another  light,  and  Ercole  stared  after  her  into  the 
gloom. 

"  He  is  alive,"  said  Kalmon,  looking  up  to  see  why 
the  light  had  gone  out.  "  We  must  get  him  inside  at 


330  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

once,  or  he  will  die  here.  Come,  Ercole  I  Make  that 
dog  lie  down  and  keep  quiet." 

Between  them  they  carried  Corbario  into  the  house. 
Nino  watched  on  the  step  in  the  rain,  but  when  the 
door  was  shut  behind  him,  he  crawled  down  to  the 
wet  grass  and  lapped  the  blood  and  water  in  the  dark. 
They  carried  Corbario  upstairs  to  an  empty  room  there 
was,  and  as  they  went  Regina  tried  to  tell  Marcello 
what  she  had  done.  They  opened  Settimia's  door, 
which  was  still  locked,  and  they  found  her  quite  dead, 
and  the  window  was  wide  open;  then  Regina  under 
stood  that  Corbario  had  been  hidden  within  hearing, 
and  had  killed  the  woman  because  she  had  confessed. 

The  men  who  had  been  sent  from  the  central  police 
station  at  Kalmon's  request  arrived  a  few  minutes 
later.  One  was  at  once  sent  for  a  surgeon  and  for 
more  men;  the  other  remained.  Soon  the  little  house 
was  full  of  officials,  in  uniform  and  in  plain  clothes. 
They  examined  everything,  they  wrote  rapidly  on  big 
sheets  of  stamped  paper;  their  chief  took  the  first 
deposition  of  Regina,  and  of  the  three  men,  and  of  the 
surgeon.  At  dawn  a  man  came  with  a  rough  pine 
coffin.  Officials  came  and  went,  and  were  gravely 
busy.  One  man  spoke  of  coffee  when  it  was  day,  and 
went  and  made  some  in  the  little  kitchen,  for  the  two 
young  women  who  cooked  and  did  the  work  of  the 
house  did  not  sleep  there,  and  would  not  come  till 
past  seven  o'clock. 

During  the  long  hours,  when  Regina  and  Marcello 
were  not  wanted,  they  were  together  in  the  sitting- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  331 

room  downstairs.  Regina  told  Marcello  in  detail 
everything  she  knew  about  the  events  of  the  night, 
and  much  which  she  had  found  out  earlier  about 
Settimia  but  had  never  told  him.  Kalmon  came  in 
from  time  to  time  and  told  them  what  was  going  on, 
and  that  Corbario  was  still  alive ;  but  they  saw  no 
more  of  Ercole.  He  had  made  his  first  deposition, 
to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  set  to  watch  the  house, 
that  the  murderer  had  jumped  from  an  upper  window, 
and  that  the  dog  had  pulled  him  down.  The  officials 
looked  nervously  at  the  dog,  produced  by  Ercole  in 
evidence,  and  were  glad  when  the  beast  was  out  of 
their  sight.  There  were  dark  stains  about  the  bristles 
on  his  jaws,  and  his  eyes  were  bloodshot;  but  Ercole 
laid  one  hand  on  his  uncouth  head,  and  he  was  very 
quiet,  and  did  not  even  snarl  at  the  policemen. 

Regina  and  Marcello  sat  side  by  side,  talking  in  a 
low  voice,  and  looking  at  each  other  now  and  then. 
The  little  house  in  which  they  had  been  happy  was 
turned  to  a  place  of  death  and  horror,  and  both  knew 
that  some  change  was  coming  to  themselves. 

"  You  cannot  live  here  any  more,"  Marcello  said  at 
dawn,  "not  even  till  to-night." 

"  Where  could  I  go  ?  "  Regina  asked.  "  Why  should 
I  not  stay  here  ?  Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  the  dead 
woman  ?  " 

"No,"  Marcello  answered,  "but  you  cannot  stay 
here." 

He  guessed  what  talking  and  gossiping  there  would 
be  when  the  newspapers  told  what  had  happened  in  the 


S32  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

little  house,  how  the  reporters  would  hang  about  the 
street  for  a  week  to  come,  and  how  fashionable  people 
would  go  out  of  their  way  to  see  the  place  where  a 
murder  had  been  committed  by  such  a  well-known  per 
son  as  Corbario,  and  where  he  had  been  taken  almost 
in  the  very  act,  and  himself  nearly  killed.  Besides  all 
that,  there  would  be  the  public  curiosity  about  Regina, 
who  had  been  so  intimately  concerned  in  a  part  of  the 
tragedy,  and  whose  name  was  everywhere  associated 
with  his  own. 

He  would  have  taken  her  away  from  Rome  at  once, 
if  he  could  have  done  so.  But  he  knew  that  they 
would  both  be  called  upon  during  the  next  few  days  to 
repeat  in  court  the  evidence  they  had  already  given  in 
their  first  deposition.  There  was  sure  to  be  the  most 
frightful  publicity  about  the  whole  affair,  of  which 
reports  would  be  published  not  only  in  Rome  but 
throughout  Italy,  and  all  over  the  world.  In  real  life 
the  consequences  of  events  generally  have  the  impor 
tance  which  fiction  is  obliged  to  give  the  events  them 
selves  ;  which  is  the  reason  why  the  things  that  happen 
to  real  people  rarely  come  to  any  precise  conclusion, 
like  those  reached  by  a  play  or  a  novel.  The  "  conclu 
sion  "  lies  in  the  lives  of  the  people,  after  the  tragedy, 
or  the  drama,  or  the  comedy  has  violently  upset  their 
existences. 

"  You  cannot  stay  here,"  Marcello  repeated  with  con 
viction. 

"You  will  go  on  living  at  your  villa,"  Regina  an 
swered.  u  Why  should  I  not  go  on  living  in  this 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  333 

house?  For  a  few  days  I  will  not  go  out,  that  is  all. 
Is  it  the  end  of  the  world  because  a  person  has  been 
killed  who  ought  to  have  died  in  the  galleys?  Or  be 
cause  the  man  who  tried  to  kill  you  was  caught  in  a 
place  that  belongs  to  you?  Tell  me  that." 

"You  cannot  stay  here,"  Marcello  repeated  a  third 
time. 

For  a  while  Regina  was  silent.  They  were  both  very 
white  and  heavy-eyed  in  the  cold  daylight,  though  they 
could  not  have  slept.  At  last  she  looked  at  him 
thoughtfully. 

"  If  we  were  married,  we  should  go  on  living  in  our 
own  house,"  she  said.  "  Is  it  true,  or  not?  It  is  because 
there  will  be  talking  that  you  are  ashamed  to  let  me 
stay  where  I  am,  and  would  like  to  get  me  away.  This 
is  the  truth.  I  know  it." 

Marcello  knew  it  too  and  did  not  answer  at  once,  for 
it  was  not  easy  to  decide  what  he  ought  to  do.  The 
problem  that  had  seemed  so  hard  to  solve  a  few  hours 
earlier  was  fast  getting  altogether  beyond  solution. 
There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done  in  the  first  present 
difficulty ;  he  must  take  Regina  to  some  other  place 
at  once.  No  doubt  this  was  easy  enough.  He  would 
take  an  apartment  for  her  elsewhere,  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  and  in  a  few  hours  she 
could  be  installed  there  out  of  the  way  of  annoyance. 
He  could  buy  a  house  for  her  if  he  chose,  for  he  was 
very  rich.  Possibly  some  house  already  belonging  to 
him  was  vacant ;  his  lawyer  would  know. 

But  after  that,  what  was  to  come  ?     If  Corbario  lived, 


334  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

there  would  be  a  sensational  trial  in  which  he  and  Re- 
gina  would  be  witnesses  together,  and  Kalmon  too,  and 
very  surely  Aurora  and  her  mother.  For  Aurora 
would  be  called  upon  to  tell  what  she  knew  of  Mar- 
cello's  movements  on  the  morning  when  he  had  been 
knocked  down  near  the  gap. 

Every  moment  of  his  past  life  would  be  publicly  ex 
amined,  to  prove  Corbario's  guilt.  Worse  than  that, 
there  would  be  a  long  inquiry  to  show  that  Corbario  had 
murdered  his  mother.  Skilled  surgeons  were  tending 
the  man's  wounds  and  reviving  him  by  every  means 
that  science  could  suggest.  Kalmon  said  that  he  might 
live.  He  was  being  kept  alive  in  order  to  be  condemned 
to  the  expiation  of  his  crimes  in  penal  servitude,  since 
Italian  law  could  not  make  him  pay  for  them  with  his 
life.  The  man  would  be  watched  by  day  and  night, 
lest  he  should  try  to  commit  suicide,  for  he  was  to  suf 
fer,  if  he  lived.  He  was  to  suffer  horribly,  without 
doubt,  and  it  was  right  and  just  that  he  should.  But 
Marcello  would  suffer  too.  That  was  not  just.  The 
name  of  his  saintly  mother  would  be  in  the  mouths  of 
all  kinds  of  witnesses,  in  the  columns  of  all  sorts  of 
newspapers.  Lawyers  would  make  speeches  about  her 
to  excite  the  pity  of  the  jury  and  to  turn  the  whole  tide 
of  feeling  against  Corbario.  Marcello  would  himself  be 
held  up  to  public  commiseration,  as  one  of  Corbario's 
victims.  There  would  be  allusions  covert  and  open  to 
Regina  and  to  the  position  in  which  she  stood  to  Mar- 
cello.  There  would  be  talk  about  Aurora.  People 
would  suddenly  remember  her  mother's  sad  story  and 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  335 

gossip  about  her ;  people  would  certainly  say  that  there 
had  been  talk  about  marrying  Aurora  to  Marcello,  and 
that  Regina  had  come  between  them.  Yes,  there  would 
be  much  talk  about  Aurora ;  that  was  certain. 

All  this  was  coming,  and  was  not  far  off,  if  Corbario 
lived ;  and  even  if  he  died  there  would  be  a  vast 
amount  said  and  written  about  all  the  people  concerned. 

And  Regina  was  there,  beside  him,  telling  him  that 
if  they  were  married  they  could  go  on  living  in  the  little 
house,  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  It  was  not  true, 
but  he  could  not  find  heart  to  tell  her  so.  It  was  the 
first  time  that  any  suggestion  of  marriage  had  come 
from  her,  who  had  always  told  him  that  marriage  was 
impossible.  If  she  wished  it  now,  could  he  refuse  ? 

Suddenly  he  knew  that  he  had  reached  one  of  the 
great  cross-roads  in  his  life,  and  that  fate  had  dragged 
him  violently  to  it  within  the  last  few  hours,  to  make 
him  choose  his  way.  The  full-grown  character  of  the 
man  rebelled  against  being  forced  to  a  decision  in  spite 
of  himself,  but  revolted  at  the  thought  of  fearing  to  do 
what  was  right  and  honourable.  He  was  not  hesi 
tating  as  he  sat  still  in  silence  after  Regina  had  spoken. 
He  was  thinking,  with  the  firm  determination  to  act 
as  soon  as  he  had  reached  a  decision.  When  a  man  can 
do  that,  his  weakness  is  past. 

Regina  did  not  interrupt  the  current  of  his  thoughts, 
and  as  she  watched  him  she  forgot  all  about  the  present ; 
and  they  were  just  together,  where  they  had  so  often 
been  happy,  and  she  loved  iiim  with  all  her  heart. 
That  was  her  strength.  It  had  nothing  to  do  with 


836  WHOSOEVER  SHALL  OFFEND 

right  or  wrong,  honour  or  dishonour,  credit  or  discredit, 
or  any  choice  of  ways.  She  had  no  choice.  She  loved. 
It  was  a  very  simple  thing. 

He  looked  up  at  last.  She  was  still  wearing  the 
loose  dressing-gown  she  had  worn  all  night. 

"  Could  you  sleep  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No." 

"  Then  you  must  dress,"  he  said.  "  While  you  are 
dressing  I  will  walk  up  to  the  villa  and  give  some 
orders.  Then  I  will  come  and  get  you  in  a  closed 
carriage.  Put  together  what  you  may  need  for  the  day, 
and  I  will  have  all  your  things  moved  before  night/' 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  take  me  away  from  here  ?  " 
Regina  asked,  regretfully. 

"  Yes.  I  must.  It  will  be  easy  to  find  a  place  that 
will  please  you  better.  Will  you  do  as  I  have  said  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?     I  go." 

She  rose  and  stood  beside  him  a  moment  while  he  sat 
still,  and  her  hand  caressed  his  short  fair  hair.  She 
bent  down  and  kissed  the  close  waves  of  it,  near  his 
forehead. 

"  We  have  been  very  happy  here,"  she  said  quietly. 

She  slipped  away  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  with  the  sud 
den  conviction  that  something  had  happened. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  quickly,  and  making  a  step 
after  her. 

"  I  am  going  to  dress,"  she  answered. 

She  turned  her  head  and  smiled,  but  there  was  a 
touch  of  sadness  in  the  look,  as  if  she  was  saying  good 
bye.  He  partly  understood,  and  her  expression  was 


WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND  337 

reflected  in  his  own  face.  They  had  been  so  happy  in 
the  little  house  in  Trastevere. 

When  the  door  had  closed  Marcello  went  to  find 
Kalmon.  He  met  him  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"The  fellow  is  alive,  and  will  probably  recover," 
said  the  Professor,  in  answer  to  the  unasked  question 
in  Marcello's  eyes. 

"  It  would  simplify  matters  if  he  died,"  said  Marcello. 
"  Will  you  walk  up  to  the  villa  with  me  and  have 
coffee  ?  We  cannot  get  a  cab  at  this  hour  on  this  side 
of  the  Tiber." 

"Thank  you,"  Kalmon  answered,  "but  I  must  go 
home.  The  house  is  in  charge  of  the  police,  and  there 
is  nothing  more  to  be  done  here.  They  have  already 
taken  the  woman's  body  to  San  Spirito,  and  they  will 
move  Corbario  in  a  few  hours.  He  is  badly  mauled, 
but  no  big  arteries  are  torn.  I  must  go  home  and  write 
a  letter.  The  Contessa  must  not  hear  what  has  hap 
pened  through  the  newspapers." 

"  No.  Certainly  not.  As  for  me,  I  am  going  to  take 
Regina  away  at  once.  I  shall  bring  my  own  carriage 
down  from  the  villa." 

"  By  the  bye,"  Kalmon  said,  "  I  had  thought  of  that. 
The  house  in  which  I  live  is  divided  into  many  small 
apartments.  There  is  a  very  good  one  to  let,  decently 
furnished.  I  thought  of  taking  it  myself,  and  I  looked 
at  it  yesterday.  You  might  put  the  young  lady  there 
until  you  can  find  what  you  may  prefer.  She  can  move 
in  at  once." 

"Nothing  could  be  better.     If  you  are  going  home, 


338  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

will  you  say  that  I  take  the  place  and  will  be  there  in 
an  hour?  No.  16,  Via  Sicilia,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Yes.  I'll  see  to  it.  Shall  I  take  the  lease  in  your 
name?" 

"No.  Any  name  will  do  better.  The  reporters 
would  find  her  at  once  under  mine." 

"  I'll  use  my  own,"  said  the  Professor.  "  I'll  say 
that  she  is  a  lady  who  has  arrived  to  consult  me  —  I 
daresay  she  will  —  and  that  I'm  responsible  for  her." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Marcello  gratefully.  "  And 
thank  you  for  all  that  you  have  done  to  help  me." 

"  My  dear  Marcello,"  Kalmon  said,  smiling  cheer 
fully,  "  in  the  first  place,  I  have  done  nothing  to  help 
you,  and  secondly,  through  excess  of  zeal,  I  have  got 
you  into  a  very  unpleasant  situation,  by  indirectly  caus 
ing  a  woman  to  be  murdered  in  your  house,  and  the 
murderer  almost  mauled  to  death  by  that  very  singular 
wild  beast  which  your  man  calls  a  dog,  and  which  I 
had  often  noticed  in  old  times  at  the  cottage.  So  there 
is  nothing  at  all  to  thank  me  for,  though  I  am  most 
heartily  at  your  service." 

The  Professor  was  positively  in  high  spirits  just  then, 
and  Marcello  envied  him  as  they  parted  and  took 
opposite  directions. 

Though  the  Via  Sicilia  was  a  long  way  from  the 
Janiculum,  Marcello  had  been  only  too  glad  to  accept 
Kalmon's  suggestion  at  such  a  moment.  Regina  would 
feel  that  she  was  protected  by  Marcello's  friend,  and 
though  she  might  rarely  see  him,  it  would  be  better  for 
than  to  be  lodged  in  a  house  where  she  knew  no 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  339 

one.  Kalmon  was  a  bachelor  and  a  man  of  assured 
position,  and  it  had  cost  him  nothing  to  undertake  to 
give  Regina  his  protection  ;  but  Marcello  was  deeply 
grateful.  He  had  already  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what 
he  would  do  next. 

It  had  stopped  raining  at  last,  and  the  wind  had  fallen 
to  a  soft  breeze  that  bore  the  morning  mist  gently  away 
towards  the  sea,  and  hardly  stirred  the  wet  leaves  that 
strewed  the  road  all  the  way  up  to  San  Pietro  in  Mon- 
torio.  Marcello  found  the  gate  of  the  villa  already 
open,  for  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  by  the  time  he  got 
there. 

He  summoned  the  servants  to  the  library,  told  them 
briefly  what  had  happened,  and  warned  them  that  they 
might  be  summoned  as  witnesses  at  the  coming  trial,  as 
most  of  them  had  been  in  his  mother's  service.  In  the 
days  before  Corbario  had  lost  his  head,  and  when  he  had 
controlled  the  household,  it  had  been  a  part  of  his 
policy  to  have  really  respectable  servants  about  him, 
and  though  some  of  them  had  never  quite  trusted  him, 
they  had  all  been  devoted  to  the  Signora  and  to 
Marcello.  They  listened  in  respectful  silence  now,  and 
waited  till  he  was  out  of  the  hoiise  before  meeting  to 
discuss  the  tragedy  and  to  decide  that  Corbario  had  got 
his  deserts  at  last. 

In  a  few  hours  Regina  was  installed  in  her  new  lodg 
ing  with  such  belongings  as  she  needed  immediately. 
Kalmon,  having  finished  writing  his  letter  to  the  Con- 
tessa,  left  nothing  undone  which  could  contribute  to  the 
comfort  of  the  "lady  who  had  arrived  to  consult  him." 


340  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

He  had  a  respectable  old  woman  servant,  who  had  been 
with  him  for  years,  and  who  came  from  his  native  town. 
He  took  her  into  his  confidence  to  some  extent,  and 
placed  her  in  charge  of  Regina.  As  she  thought  that 
everything  he  did  must  be  right,  she  accepted  his  state 
ment  that  the  young  gentleman  who  would  often  come 
to  see  the  young  lady  was  deeply  interested  in  the  latter's 
welfare,  and  that,  as  the  poor  young  lady  had  no  relations, 
he,  the  Professor,  had  taken  her  under  his  protection 
while  she  remained  in  Rome. 

The  old  servant's  name  was  Teresa,  and  she  belonged 
to  a  certain  type  of  elderly  old  maids  who  take  a  veiy 
kindly  interest  in  the  love  affairs  of  the  young.  She 
smiled,  shook  her  head  in  a  very  mild  disapprobation, 
and  did  much  more  than  Kalmon  had  asked  of  her ;  for 
she  took  the  very  first  opportunity  of  informing  Regina 
that  the  Professor  was  the  greatest,  wisest,  best,  and 
kindest  of  mankind;  and  Regina  recognised  in  her  a 
loyal  soul,  and  forthwith  liked  her  very  much. 

It  was  late  in  the  November  afternoon  when  Marcello 
ascended  the  stairs  and  stopped  before  the  door  of  the 
little  apartment.  He  realised  that  he  had  no  key  to  it, 
and  that  he  must  ring  the  bell  as  if  he  were  a  mere 
visitor.  It  was  strange  that  such  a  little  thing  should 
affect  him  at  all,  but  he  was  conscious  of  a  sort  of  chill, 
as  he  pulled  the  metal  handle  and  heard  the  tinkling  of 
one  of  those  cheap  little  bells  that  feebly  imitate  their 
electric  betters  by  means  of  a  rachet  and  a  small  weighted 
wheel.  It  was  all  so  different  from  the  little  house  in 
Trastevere  with  its  bright  varnished  doors,  its  patent 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  341 

locks,  its  smart  windows,  and  its  lovely  old  garden.  He 
wished  he  had  not  brought  Regina  to  Via  Sicilia,  though 
Kalmon's  advice  had  seemed  so  good.  To  Kalmon,  who 
was  used  to  no  great  luxury  in  his  own  life,  the  place 
doubtless  seemed  very  well  suited  for  a  young  person 
like  Regina,  who  had  been  brought  up  a  poor  child  in 
the  hills.  But  the  mere  anticipation  of  the  dark  and 
narrow  entry,  and  the  sordid  little  sitting-room  beyond, 
awoke  in  Marcello  a  sense  of  shame,  whether  for  himself 
or  for  the  woman  who  loved  him  he  hardly  knew. 

Old  Teresa  had  gone  out  for  something,  and  Regina 
opened  the  door  herself. 


CHAPTER   XX 

"  I  HAVE  come  to  see  if  you  need  anything,"  Mar- 
cello  said,  when  they  were  in  the  sitting-room.  "  I 
am  sorry  to  have  been  obliged  to  bring  you  to  such  a 
wretched  place,  but  it  seemed  a  good  thing  that  you 
should  be  so  near  Kalmon." 

"  It  is  not  a  wretched  place,"  Regina  answered.  "  It 
is  clean,  and  the  things  are  new,  and  the  curtains  have 
been  washed.  It  is  not  wretched.  We  have  been  in 
worse  lodgings  when  we  have  travelled  and  stopped  in 
small  towns.  Professor  Kalmon  has  been  very  kind. 
It  was  wise  to  bring  me  here." 

He  wished  she  had  seemed  discontented. 

"  Have  you  rested  a  little  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  slept  two  or  three  hours.  And  you  ?  You 
look  tired." 

"  I  have  had  no  time  to  sleep.     I  shall  sleep  to-night." 

He  leaned  back  in  the  small  green  arm-chair  and 
rested  his  head  against  a  coarse  netted  antimacassar. 
His  eyes  caught  Regina's,  but  she  was  looking  down 
thoughtfully  at  her  hands,  which  lay  in  her  lap  together 
but  not  clasped.  Peasant  women  often  do  that  ;  their 
hands  are  resting  then,  after  hard  work,  and  they  are 
thinking  of  nothing. 

44  Look  at  me,"  Marcello  said  after  a  long  time. 

342 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  343 

Her  glance  was  sad  and  almost  dull,  and  there  was  no 
light  in  her  face.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  that 
something  dreadful  was  going  to  happen  to  her,  and  that 
the  end  was  coming  soon.  She  could  not  have  told 
why  she  felt  it,  and  that  made  it  worse.  Her  eyes  had 
the  indescribable  look  that  one  sees  in  those  of  a  beau 
tiful  sick  animal,  the  painful  expression  of  an  unintelli 
gent  suffering  which  the  creature  cannot  understand. 
Regina,  roused  to  act  and  face  to  face  with  danger, 
was  brave,  clever,  and  quick,  but  under  the  mysterious 
oppression  of  her  forebodings  she  was  the  Roman  hill 
woman,  apathetic,  hopeless,  unconsciously  fatalistic  and 
sleepily  miserable. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  Marcello  asked.  "  What 
has  happened  ?  " 

"  I  shall  know  when  you  have  told  me,"  Regina 
answered,  slowly  shaking  her  head  ;  and  again  she 
looked  down  at  her  hands. 

"  What  I  have  come  to  tell  you  will  not  make  you 
sad,"  Marcello  replied. 

"  Speak,  heart  of  my  heart.     I  listen." 

Marcello  leaned  forward  and  laid  his  hand  upon  hers. 
She  looked  up  quietly,  for  it  was  a  familiar  action  of  his. 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  you,"  he  said,  watching  her, 
and  speaking  earnestly. 

She  kept  her  eyes  on  his,  but  she  shook  her  head 
again,  slowly,  from  side  to  side,  and  her  lips  were  pressed 
together. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  said  Marcello,  with  a  little  pressure 
of  his  hand  to  emphasise  the  words. 


344  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

But  she  withdrew  hers,  and  leaned  far  back  from 
him. 

44  Never,"  she  said.  "  I  have  told  you  so,  many 
times." 

"Not  if  I  tell  you  that  nothing  else  will  make  me 
happy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  I  still  made  you  happy,  you  would  not  talk  of 
marriage,"  Regina  answered. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  loved  him  he  heard 
a  ring  of  bitterness  in  her  voice.  They  had  reached 
that  first  node  of  misunderstanding  in  the  love  relations 
of  men  and  women,  which  lies  where  the  one  begins 
to  think  and  act  upon  a  principle  while  the  other  still 
feels  and  acts  from  the  heart. 

44  That  is  not  reasonable,"  Marcello  said. 

4i  It  is  truth,"  she  answered. 

"  But  how  ?  " 

"  How  !     I  feel  it,  here  !  " 

Her  hands  sprang  to  life  and  pressed  her  bosom, 
her  voice  rang  deep  and  her  eyes  flashed,  as  if  she  were 
impatient  of  his  misunderstanding. 

He  tried  to  laugh  gently. 

44  But  if  I  want  to  marry  you,  it  is  because  I  mean 
never  to  part  from  you,"  he  said. 

44  No  !  "  she  cried.  "  It  is  because  you  are  afraid 
that  you  will  leave  me,  unless  }TOU  are  bound  to  me." 

u  Regina  !  n     Marcello  protested,  by  his  tone. 

44  It  is  as  I  say.  It  is  because  you  are  honourable. 
It  is  because  you  wish  to  be  faithful.  It  is  because 
you  want  to  be  true.  But  what  do  I  care  for  honour, 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  345 

or  faith,  or  truth,  if  I  can  only  have  them  of  you 
because  you  are  tied  to  me  ?  I  only  want  love.  That 
is  everything.  I  want  it,  but  I  have  never  asked  it 
of  you,  and  never  shall.  Is  love  money,  that  you  can 
take  it  out  of  your  purse  and  give  it  ?  Is  love  a  string, 
that  the  priest  and  the  mayor  can  tie  the  ends  so  that 
they  can  never  come  undone  ?  I  do  not  know  what 
it  is,  but  it  is  not  that  !  " 

She  laughed  scornfully,  as  if  she  were  angry  at  the 
thought.  But  Marcello  had  made  up  his  mind,  and 
was  obstinate. 

"We  must  be  married  at  once,"  he  said  quietly,  and 
fully  believing  that  he  could  impose  his  will  upon  hers. 
"  If  I  had  not  been  weak  and  foolish,  we  should  have 
been  married  long  ago.  But  for  a  long  time  after  my 
illness  I  had  no  will  of  my  own.  I  am  sorry.  It  was 
my  fault." 

"  It  was  not  your  fault,  it  was  the  illness,  and  it  was 
my  will.  If  I  had  said,  any  day  in  those  first  two 
years,  'Make  me  your  wife,  for  I  wish  to  be  a  real 
signora,'  would  you  not  have  done  it?" 

"You  know  I  would." 

"But  I  would  not,  and  I  will  not  now.  I  am  not 
a  real  signora.  I  am  beautiful  —  yes,  I  see  that.  Am 
I  blind  when  I  look  into  my  glass  ?  I  am  very  beauti 
ful.  We  have  not  often  met  any  woman  in  our 
travels  as  beautiful  as  I  am.  Am  I  blind?  I  have 
black  hair,  like  the  common  people,  but  my  hair  is  not 
coarse,  like  a  mule's  tail.  It  is  as  fine  as  silk.  My 
eyes  are  black,  and  that  is  common  too  ;  but  my  eyes 


346  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

are  not  like  those  of  the  buffaloes  in  the  Campagna, 
as  the  other  women's  are  where  I  was  born.  And  I  am 
not  dark-skinned;  I  am  as  white  as  the  snow  on  Monte 
Cavo,  as  white  as  the  milk  in  the  pan.  Also  I  have 
been  told  that  I  have  beautiful  feet,  though  I  cannot 
tell  why.  They  are  small,  this  is  the  truth,  and  un 
hands  are  like  those  of  a  signora.  But  I  am  not  a  real 
signora,  though  I  have  all  this.  How  can  you  marry 
me  ?  None  of  your  friends  would  speak  to  me,  because 
I  have  not  even  been  an  honest  girl.  That  was  for 
you,  but  they  do  not  count  love.  Your  servants  at  the 
villa  would  laugh  at  you  behind  your  back,  and  say, 
4  The  master  has  married  one  of  us ! '  Do  you  think 
I  could  bear  that  ?  Tell  me  what  you  think  !  Am  I 
of  stone,  to  bear  that  people  should  laugh  at  you  ?  " 

She  took  breath  at  last  and  leaned  back  again, 
folding  her  arms  and  fixing  her  splendid  eyes  on  his 
face,  and  challenging  him  to  answer  her. 

"  We  will  go  and  live  in  Calabria,  at  San  Domenico, 
for  a  while,"  he  said.  "  We  need  not  live  in  Rome  at 
all,  unless  we  please,  for  we  have  the  whole  world 
before  us." 

"  We  saw  the  world  together  without  being 
married,"  Hegina  answered  obstinately.  "What  differ 
ence  would  there  be,  if  we  were  husband  and  wife  ? 
Do  you  wish  to  know  what  difference  there  would  be? 
I  \vill  tell  you.  There  would  be  this  difference. 
<  >n»-  day  I  should  see  no  light  in  your  eyes,  and  your 
lips  would  be  like  stone.  Then  I  should  say,  'Heart 
of  my  heart,  you  are  tired  of  me,  and  I  go.'  But 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  347 

you  would  answer,  4You  cannot  go,  for  you  are  my 
wife.'  What  would  that  be?  That  would  be  the 
difference.  Do  you  understand,  or  do  you  not  under 
stand  ?  If  you  do  not  understand,  I  can  do  nothing. 
But  I  will  not  marry  you.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  mule 
go  down  to  the  ford  in  spring,  too  heavily  laden,  when 
there  is  freshet  ?  He  drowns,  if  he  is  driven  in, 
because  the  burden  is  too  heavy.  I  will  not  be  the 
burden  ;  but  I  should  be,  if  I  were  your  wife,  because 
I  am  not  a  real  signora.  Now  you  know  what  I 
think." 

"  Yes,"  Marcello  answered,  "  but  I  do  not  think  in 
the  same  way." 

He  was  not  sure  how  to  answer  her  arguments,  and 
he  lit  a  cigarette  to  gain  time.  He  was  quietly  deter 
mined  to  have  his  own  way,  but  in  order  to  succeed  he 
knew  that  he  must  persuade  her  till  she  agreed  with 
him.  He  could, not  drag  her  to  the  altar  against  her 
will. 

Before  he  had  thrown  away  the  match,  Regina  had 
risen  from  her  chair.  She  leaned  against  the  little 
marble  mantelpiece,  looking  down  at  him. 

"There  are  things  that  you  do  not  know,"  she  said. 
"  If  you  knew  them  you  would  not  want  to  marry  me. 
In  all  the  time  we  have  been  together,  you  have  hardly 
ever  spoken  to  me  of  your  mother." 

Marcello  started  a  little  and  looked  up,  unconsciously 
showing  that  he  was  displeased. 

"  No,"  he  answered.     "  Why  should  I?  " 

"  You  were  right.     Your  mother  is  now  one  of  the 


348  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

saints  in  Paradise.  How  do  I  know  it?  Even  Settimia 
knew  it.  I  am  not  going  to  talk  of  her  now.  I  am 
not  fit  to  speak  her  name  in  your  hearing.  Very  well. 
Do  you  know  what  my  mother  was?" 

"  She  is  dead,"  Marcello  replied,  meaning  that  Regina 
should  let  her  memory  alone. 

"  Or  my  father?"  she  asked,  going  on.  "They 
were  bad  people.  I  come  of  a  bad  race.  Perhaps 
that  is  why  I  do  wrong  easily,  for  you.  My  father 
killed  a  man  and  left  us,  though  he  was  allowed  to  go 
free,  and  I  never  saw  him  again.  He  had  reason  to 
kill  the  man.  I  was  a  little  girl,  but  I  remember. 
My  mother  took  other  men.  They  came  and  went ; 
sometimes  they  were  drunk  and  they  beat  us.  When 
I  was  twelve  years  old  one  of  them  looked  upon  me 
with  bad  eyes.  Then  my  mother  cursed  him,  and  he 
took  up  a  stone  and  struck  her  on  the  head,  and  she 
died.  They  sent  him  to  the  galleys,  and  me  to  work 
at  the  inn,  because  I  had  no  friends.  This  is  the 
family  of  Regina.  It  is  a  race  of  assassins  and  wicket  I 
women.  If  I  were  your  wife,  that  would  be  the  family 
of  your  wife.  If  God  sent  children,  that  would  be  the 
blood  they  would  have  of  me,  to  mix  with  that  of  your 
mother,  who  is  one  of  the  saints  in  heaven.  This  is 
the  truth.  If  you  think  I  am  telling  you  one  thing  for 
another,  let  us  go  to  the  inn  on  the  Frascati  road. 
1'iioluccio  and  Nanna  know.  They  would  laugh  if 
they  could  see  me  dressed  like  a  real  signora,  and  they 
would  say, 4  This  girl  is  her  mother's  daughter  I '  And 
so  I  am." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  349 

She  ceased  speaking,  and  again  waited  for  his  answer, 
but  he  had  none  ready,  and  there  was  silence.  She  had 
put  the  ugly  truth  too  plainly  before  him,  and  he  could 
not  shut  up  his  understanding  against  it ;  he  could  not 
deny  what  she  said,  he  could  never  teach  himself  to 
believe  that  it  did  not  matter.  And  yet,  he  did  not 
mean  to  draw  back,  or  give  up  his  purpose,  even  then. 
Men  of  good  birth  had  married  peasant  women  before 
now.  They  had  given  up  the  society  of  their  old 
friends,  they  had  lived  in  remote  places,  they  had 
become  half  peasants  themselves,  their  sons  had  grown 
up  to  be  rough  farmers,  and  had  done  obligatory  mili 
tary  service  in  the  ranks  for  years,  because  they  could 
not  pass  an  easy  examination.  But  was  all  that  so  very 
terrible  after  all,  in  the  light  of  the  duty  that  faced  him  ? 

The  woman  had  saved  his  life,  had  carried  him  in 
her  arms,  had  tended  him  like  a  child,  had  stolen  food 
to  keep  him  alive,  had  faced  starvation  for  him  when 
she  had  got  him  to  the  hospital,  had  nursed  him  — 
had  loved  him,  had  given  him  all  she  had,  and  she 
would  have  died  for  him,  if  there  had  been  need. 
Now,  she  was  giving  him  something  more,  for  she 
was  refusing  to  be  his  wife  because  she  was  sure  that 
sooner  or  later  she  must  be  a  burden  to  him,  and  that 
her  birth  would  be  a  reproach  to  his  children.  No 
woman  could  do  more  for  a  man  than  she  had  done. 
She  had  been  his  salvation  and  his  good  angel ;  when 
she  had  found  out  that  the  life  in  Paris  that  amused 
her  was  killing  him,  she  had  brought  him  back  to  him 
self,  she  had  made  him  at  last  fit  and  able  to  face  those 


350  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

who  would  have  destroyed  him.  She  had  loved  him 
like  a  woman,  she  had  obeyed  him  and  served  him  like 
a  devoted  servant,  she  had  watched  over  him  like  a 
faithful  dog ;  and  he  had  given  her  nothing  in  return 
for  all  that,  not  one  thing  that  deserved  to  be  counted. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  even  really  loved  her ;  most  surely 
his  love  had  been  far  less  large  and  true  and  devoted 
than  hers,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  so.  The  reparation 
he  was  determined  to  make  was  not  really  for  her 
honesty's  sake  ;  it  was  to  be  an  attempt  at  repaying 
a  debt  that  was  weighing  upon  his  conscience  like  a 
debt  of  honour. 

That  was  it.  He  felt  that  unless  he  could  in  some 
way  repay  her  for  what  she  had  done,  his  man's  honour 
would  not  be  satisfied.  That  was  very  well,  in  its 
way,  but  it  was  not  love.  It  was  as  if  he  had  said  to 
himself,  "I  cannot  love  her  as  she  loves  me,  but  I 
can  at  least  marry  her  ;  and  that  is  better  than  nothing, 
and  has  the  merit  of  being  morally  right." 

She  had  told  him  that  if  she  still  made  him  happy  he 
w^ould  not  talk  of  marriage.  The  brutal  truth  shamed 
him,  now  that  he  knew  it  from  her  own  lips.  It  was 
not  the  whole  truth,  but  it  was  a  great  part  of  it.  If 
he  was  happy  with  her  now,  when  there  was  nothing  to 
disturb  them,  it  was  by  force  of  habit,  it  was  because 
her  beauty  appealed  to  him,  it  was  because  her  touch 
was  dearer  to  him  than  her  heart's  devotion.  Now 
that  he  was  a  grown  man,  he  knew  well  enough  that 
he  craved  something  else  which  poor  Regina  could 
never  give  him. 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL   OFFEND  351 

For  he  felt  the  want  of  companionship.  Those  who 
have  lost  what  is  most  worth  having,  whether  by  death 
or  by  their  own  fault,  or  by  the  other's,  miss  the  com 
panionship  of  love  more  than  anything  else,  when  the 
pain  of  the  first  wrench  is  dulled  and  the  heart's  blood 
is  staunched,  and  the  dreadful  bodily  loneliness  comes 
only  in  dreams.  Then  the  longing  for  the  old  sweet 
intercourse  of  thought  and  word  makes  itself  felt  and 
is  very  hard  to  bear,  though  it  is  not  sharp  like  the 
first  wound  ;  and  it  comes  again  and  again  for  years, 
and  perhaps  for  ever. 

But  where  there  is  no  true  companionship  while  love 
lasts,  there  is  something  lacking,  and  such  love  cannot 
live  long.  Men  seem  to  want  it  more  than  women  do  ; 
and  women,  seeing  that  men  want  something,  often 
fancy  they  want  flattery,  and  flatter  the  men  they 
love  till  they  disgust  them  ;  and  then  the  end 
comes  suddenly,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  those 
women. 

Regina  was  too  womanly  not  to  feel  that  Marcello 
was  in  real  need  of  something  which  she  had  not,  and 
could  never  have.  She  had  known  it  from  the  first, 
and  had  almost  told  him  so.  She  gave  what  was  hers 
to  give,  as  long  as  he  wanted  it ;  when  he  wanted 
it  no  more,  she  meant  to  leave  him,  and  it  would 
make  no  difference  what  became  of  her  afterwards. 

When  she  had  finished  speaking,  Marcello  was  very 
miserable,  because  he  could  find  no  answer  to  what  she 
had  said,  and  he  felt  that  she  had  no  right  to  say  it 
at  all.  His  head  ached  now,  from  excitement  and  want 


352  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

of  sleep,  and  he  almost  wished  that  he  had  put  off 
speaking  to  Regina  about  her  marriage.  He  rested 
his  head  in  his  hand  as  he  sat  thinking,  and  she  came 
and  stood  beside  him  as  she  had  done  in  the  morning  in 
the  little  house  in  Trastevere.  But  it  was  not  the  same 
now.  She  hoped  that  he  would  put  up  his  other  hand 
to  find  hers,  without  looking  at  her,  as  he  often  did, 
but  it  gripped  his  knee  as  if  he  did  not  mean  to  move 
it,  and  he  did  not  raise  his  head. 

She  looked  up  from  his  bent  figure  to  the  window 
and  saw  that  the  light  was  reddening  with  the  first  tinge 
of  sunset.  It  would  soon  be  night,  Marcello  would  go 
away,  and  she  would  be  dreadfully  lonely.  It  was  not 
like  being  in  the  little  house,  knowing  that  he  was  near 
her,  in  the  great  villa  on  top  of  the  hill,  hidden  from 
her  only  by  trees.  She  was  in  a  strange  place  now,  and 
he  would  be  far  away,  across  the  Tiber,  and  the  great 
dark  city  would  be  between  her  and  him. 

For  an  instant  her  lip  quivered,  and  she  thought  she 
was  going  to  cry,  though  she  had  never  cried  in  her 
life,  except  for  rage  and  when  she  had  been  a  little  girl. 
She  shook  her  handsome  head  impatiently  at  the  mere 
sensation,  and  held  it  higher  than  ever.  Then  Marcello 
looked  up  at  last. 

As  their  eyes  met  they  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  little 
bell.  Regina  at  once  left  his  side  to  go  and  open  the 
door.  It  was  not  till  she  had  left  the  room  that  Mar- 
cello  rose,  asking  himself  suddenly  why  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him  to  go  himself.  He  realised  that  he 
had  always  allowed  her  to  wait  on  him  without  ques- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  353 

tion.  Yet  if  she  were  his  wife,  he  would  not  think  of 
letting  her  do  what  she  was  doing  now.  He  would 
even  open  the  door  of  the  room  for  her  to  go  out. 

He  knew  why  he  had  never  treated  her  in  that  way. 
She  was  a  peasant  girl,  she  had  been  a  servant  in  an 
inn  ;  it  was  natural  that  she  should  serve  him  too.  She 
often  brought  him  his  shoes  when  he  was  going  out, 
and  she  would  have  put  them  on  for  him  and  laced 
them  if  he  would  have  let  her  do  it.  It  seemed 
natural  that  she  should  answer  the  bell  and  open  the 
door,  as  it  seemed  unnatural  that  she  should  ever 
be  his  wife.  The  thought  stung  him,  and  again  he 
was  ashamed. 

While  these  things  were  passing  in  his  mind,  he 
heard  a  familiar  voice  in  the  dark  entry. 

"  Signora,  you  will  excuse  me,"  Ercole  was  saying. 
"  I  asked  the  Professor  and  he  told  me.  I  beg  the 
favour  of  a  few  words." 

"Come  in,"  Regina  answered,  and  a  moment  later 
they  both  entered  the  sitting-room. 

Ercole  stood  still  when  he  saw  Marcello,  and  began 
to  turn  his  hat  in  his  hands,  as  if  it  were  a  rosary, 
which  he  generally  did  when  he  was  embarrassed. 
Marcello  wondered  what  the  man  wanted. 

"  Were  you  looking  for  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Come  in! 
What  is  it  ?  Has  anything  happened  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  nothing  new  has  happened,"  answered 
Ercole. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?     Why  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

Ercole   had  dressed  himself  for  the  occasion  in  his 

2A 


354  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

best  clothes.  He  had  on  a  snowy  shirt  and  a  new 
keeper's  jacket,  and  his  boots  were  blacked.  Further 
more,  he  had  just  been  shaved,  and  his  shaggy  hair  had 
been  cut  rather  close.  He  did  not  carry  his  gun  about 
with  him  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  though  he  felt  that  it 
was  slightly  derogatory  to  his  dignity  to  be  seen  with 
out  it,  and  Nino  was  not  with  him,  having  been  tem 
porarily  chained  to  the  wall  in  the  court  of  the  stables 
at  the  villa. 

He  stood  still,  and  looked  from  Marcello  to  Regina, 
and  back  to  Marcello  again. 

"  It  cannot  be  done,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  It  is  use 
less.  It  cannot  be  done." 

Without  another  word  he  turned  abruptly  and  was 
going  to  leave  the  room,  when  Marcello  stopped  him 
authoritatively. 

44  Come  here,  Ercole  !  "  he  cried,  as  the  man  was  dis 
appearing  into  the  entry. 

44  Did  you  speak  to  me,  sir  ?  "  Ercole  inquired,  stop 
ping  in  the  doorway. 

44  Yes.  Shut  the  door  and  come  here."  Ercole 
obeyed  with  evident  reluctance.  "Now,  then,"  Mar- 
cello  continued,  "  come  here  and  tell  me  what  you 
want,  and  what  it  is  that  cannot  be  done." 

44 1  desire  a  few  words  with  this  lady,  and  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  here,  sir.  Therefore  I  said,  it  can 
not  be  done.  I  mean  that  while  you  are  here,  sir,  I 
cannot  speak  alone  with  this  lady." 

44  That  is  clear,"  Marcello  answered.  "  You  cannot 
be  alone  with  this  lady  while  I  am  in  the  room.  That 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  355 

certainly  cannot  be  done.  Why  do  you  wish  to  be 
alone  with  her?  You  can  speak  before  me." 

"  It  will  not  be  so  easy,  sir.  I  will  come  at  another 
time." 

"No,"  Marcello  answered,  not  liking  his  manner. 
"  You  will  say  what  you  have  to  say  now,  or  you  will 
say  nothing,  for  you  will  not  come  at  another  time. 
The  lady  will  not  let  you  in,  if  you  come  again.  Now 
speak." 

"It  will  be  a  little  difficult,  sir.  I  would  rather 
speak  to  the  lady  alone." 

Regina  had  stood  listening  in  silence,  and  looking 
intently  at  Er cole's  face. 

"  Let  me  speak  to  him,"  she  said  to  Marcello.  "  What 
is  your  full  name  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  Ercole  again. 

"Spalletta  Ercole,  to  serve  you,"  was  the  prompt 
answer. 

"  Spalletta  ?  "  Marcello  asked  in  surprise,  for  strange 
as  it  may  seem  to  any  but  Italians,  it  was  quite  natural 
that  he  should  never  have  known  Ercole's  family  name. 
"Spalletta?  That  is  your  own  name,  Regina!  What 
a  strange  coincidence  !  " 

"  Yes,"  Ercole  said.  "  I  know  that  the  young  lady's 
name  is  Spalletta.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  desire 
the  favour  of  a  few  words  with  her  alone." 

"  There  is  no  need,"  Regina  answered.  "  Since  we 
have  the  same  name,  there  is  no  doubt.  I  remember 
your  face  now,  though  until  last  night  I  had  not  seen 
you  since  I  was  a  little  child.  Yes.  I  know  what  you 
have  come  to  say,  and  it  is  quite  true." 


356  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"What?"  asked  Marcello  with  some  anxiety. 

"This  man  is  my  father,"  Kegina  suid,  very  quietly. 

"Your  father!"  Marcello  made  half  a  step  back 
wards  in  his  surprise. 

"Yes.  I  have  told  you  what  he  did."  She  turned 
to  Ercole.  "  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  Is  it  money 
that  you  want,  perhaps  ?  " 

Ercole  stiffened  himself  and  seemed  to  grow  taller. 
His  black  eyes  flashed  dangerously,  and  his  heavy  eye 
brows  were  suddenly  stern  and  level,  as  Regina's 
were. 

"  You  are  your  mother's  daughter,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  Did  I  take  money  from  her  ?  I  took  blood,  and  when 
I  was  tried  for  it,  I  was  set  free.  I  was  told  that  it 
was  my  right  under  our  law.  I  do  not  want  money.  I 
have  brought  you  money.  There  it  is.  It  will  buy 
you  some  bread  when  your  lover  turns  you  into  the 
street  I  " 

He  took  out  his  old  sheepskin  purse  with  a  quick 
movement,  and  laughed  harshly  as  he  tossed  it  at  her. 
Marcello  sprang  forward  and  caught  him  by  the  collar, 
to  thrust  him  out  of  the  room  ;  but  Ercole  was  tough 
and  wiry,  and  resisted. 

"  Will  you  hinder  me  from  giving  money  to  my 
daughter  ?  "  he  asked  fiercely.  "  It  was  yours,  for  you 
paid  it  to  me  ;  but  when  I  knew,  I  saved  my  wages  to 
give  them  back,  for  I  will  not  take  your  money,  sir  ! 
Take  your  hands  from  me,  sir !  I  have  a  right  to  be 
here  and  to  speak.  Let  me  go,  I  tell  you  I  I  am  not 
in  your  service  any  longer.  I  do  not  eat  your  cursed 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  357 

bread.  I  am  this  woman's  father,  and  I  shall  say  what 
I  will." 

Marcello  withdrew  his  hands  and  pointed  to  the  door. 

"  Go !  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  command. 

Ercole  backed  away  a  little,  and  then  stood  still  again. 

"  I  have  to  tell  you  that  I  have  spent  five  francs  of 
that  money,"  he  said,  speaking  to  Regina.  "  But  it  was 
spent  for  you.  I  found  a  good  monk,  and  I  gave  him 
the  five  francs  to  say  three  masses  for  your  soul.  The 
masses  were  said  in  August,  and  now  it  is  November, 
and  you  are  still  alive  !  " 

"  Go  !  "  cried  Marcello,  understanding,  and  advancing 
upon  him  once  more. 

"I  go,"  answered  Ercole  hoarsely.  "  Let  her  live,  till 
you  are  tired  of  her,  and  she  dies  in  a  ditch  !  I  told 
the  monk  to  say  the  masses  for  a  female.  They  will  do 
for  the  woman  who  was  killed  last  night.  One  female 
is  worth  another,  and  evil  befall  them  all,  as  many  as 
they  are  !  Why  did  the  Eternal  Father  ever  create 
them?" 

He  had  turned  before  he  spoke  the  last  words,  and  he 
went  out  deliberately,  shutting  the  door  behind  him. 
They  heard  him  go  out  upon  the  landing,  and  they 
were  alone  again.  Regina  leaned  back  against  the 
mantelpiece,  but  Marcello  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  You  have  seen,"  she  said,  in  a  rather  unsteady 
voice.  "  Now  you  know  of  what  blood  I  am,  and  that 
what  I  said  was  true.  The  son  of  your  mother  cannot 
marry  the  daughter  of  that  man." 


858  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  him  ?  "  Marcello  asked 
sharply,  stopping  in  his  walk. 

But  Regina  only  shook  her  head,  and  turned  away. 
She  knew  that  she  was  right,  and  that  he  knew  it  too, 
or  would  know  it  soon. 

u  You  will  never  see  him  again,"  he  said.  "  Forget 
that  you  have  seen  him  at  all  ! " 

Again  she  shook  her  head,  not  looking  at  him. 

"You  will  not  forget,"  she  answered,  "and  I  shall 
always  remember.  He  should  have  killed  me,  as  he 
meant  to  do.  It  would  have  been  the  end.  It  would 
have  been  better,  and  quicker." 

"  God  forbid  !  " 

"  Why  ?     Would  it  not  have  been  better  ?  " 

She  came  close  to  him  and  laid  one  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  and  gazed  into  his  eyes.  They  were  full  of 
trouble  and  pain,  and  they  did  not  lighten  for  her  ;  his 
brow  did  not  relax  and  his  lips  did  not  part.  After 
a  little  while  she  turned  again  and  went  back  to  the 
•^replace. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "I  knew  it  this  morning." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  while.  Marcello 
stood  beside  her,  holding  her  hand  in  his,  and  trying 
to  see  her  face.  He  was  very  tender  with  her,  but 
there  was  no  thrill  in  his  touch.  Something  was  gone 
that  would  never  come  back. 

"  When  all  this  trouble  is  over,"  he  said  at  last, 
"you  shall  go  back  to  the  little  house  in  Trastevere, 
and  it  will  be  just  as  it  was  before." 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  359 

She  raised  her  head  rather  proudly,  as  she  answered. 

"If  that  could  be,  it  would  be  now.  You  would 
have  taken  me  in  your  arms  when  he  was  gone,  and 
you  would  have  kissed  my  eyes  and  my  hair,  and  we 
should  have  been  happy,  just  as  it  was  before.  But 
instead,  you  want  to  comfort  me,  you  want  to  be  kind 
to  me,  you  want  to  be  just  to  me,  instead  of  loving 
me!" 

"  Regina  !     I  do  love  you  !     I  do  indeed  !  " 

He  would  have  put  his  arms  round  her  to  draw  her 
closer  to  him,  in  the  sudden  longing  to  make  her  think 
that  there  was  no  change  in  his  love,  but  she  quietly 
resisted  him. 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  me,  dear,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  know  you  will  always  be  that,  whatever  comes. 
And  I  am  always  yours,  dear,  and  you  are  the  master, 
whenever  you  choose  to  come  and  see  me.  For  I  care 
for  nothing  that  God  has  made,  except  you.  But  it 
will  never  be  just  as  it  used  to  be." 

"  It  shall  !  "  Marcello  tried  to  put  conviction  into 
the  words.  "  It  shall  !  It  shall  !  " 

"  It  cannot,  my  heart,"  she  answered.  "  I  used  to 
say  that  when  this  came,  I  would  go  away.  But  I 
will  not  do  that,  unless  you  bid  me  to,  for  I  think  you 
would  be  sorry,  and  I  should  be  giving  you  more  pain, 
and  you  have  enough.  Only  leave  me  a  little  while 
alone,  dear,  for  I  am  very  tired,  and  it  is  growing  late." 

He  took  her  hands  and  kissed  them  one  after  the 
other,  and  looked  into  her  face.  His  own  was  very 
weary. 


360  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

"  Promise  me  that  I  shall  find  you  here  to-morrow/1 
he  said. 

"  You  shall  find  me,"  she  answered  softly. 

They  parted  so,  and  he  left  her  alone,  in  the  dark, 
for  the  glow  of  the  sunset  had  faded  and  the  early 
November  evening  was  closing  in. 

Old  Teresa  came  and  brought  a  lamp,  and  drew  the 
curtains,  and  gave  her  a  message  from  Kalmon.  If 
she  needed  anything  she  was  to  send  for  him,  and  he 
would  come  at  once.  She  thanked  Teresa.  It  was 
very  kind  of  the  Professor,  but  she  needed  nothing. 
Not  even  a  fire  ;  no,  she  hardly  ever  felt  cold.  Teresa 
brought  something  to  eat,  and  set  the  little  table  for 
her.  She  was  not  hungry,  and  she  was  glad  when  the 
good  soul  was  gone. 

She  could  open  the  windows  when  she  was  alone, 
and  look  out  into  the  silent  street.  There  was  moon 
light  now,  and  it  fell  across  the  walls  and  trees  of  the 
Villa  Aurora  upon  her  face.  It  was  a  young  moon, 
that  would  set  before  midnight,  but  it  was  very  clear 
and  bright,  and  the  sky  was  infinitely  deep  and  very 
clear  behind  it.  Regina  fancied  that  if  there  were 
really  angels  in  heaven,  she  should  be  able  to  see  them 
on  such  a  night. 

If  she  had  been  in  Trastevere  she  would  have  gone 
out  to  walk  up  and  down  the  old  paved  paths  of  the 
little  garden,  for  she  could  not  sleep,  though  she  was 
so  tired.  The  lamp  disturbed  her  and  she  put  it  out, 
and  sat  down  by  the  window  again. 

It  was  very  quiet  now,  for  it  was  past  nine  o'clock. 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND  361 

She  heard  a  step,  and  it  almost  surprised  her.  A  man 
with  a  big  dog  was  walking  in  the  shadow  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  and  when  he  was  opposite  the 
house  he  stood  still  and  looked  up  at  her  window.  He 
did  not  move  for  some  time,  but  the  dog  came  out  into 
the  moonlight  in  a  leisurely  way,  and  lay  down  on  the 
paving  stones.  All  dogs  think  it  is  warmer  in  the 
light  than  in  the  shadow. 

Regina  rose,  got  a  long  black  cloak  and  a  dark  veil 
without  lighting  a  candle,  and  put  them  on.  Then 
she  went  out. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

ERCOLE  walked  on  when  he  saw  some  one  come  out 
of  No.  16,  for  he  did  not  recognise  Regina.  She  fol 
lowed  him  at  a  distance.  Even  if  he  should  pass  where 
there  might  be  many  people,  she  would  not  lose  sight 
of  him  easily  because  he  had  his  dog  with  him.  She 
noticed  that  his  canvas  bag  was  hung  over  one  shoulder 
and  that  it  seemed  to  be  full,  and  his  gun  was  slung 
over  the  other.  He  meant  to  leave  Rome  that  night  on 
foot.  He  walked  fast  through  the  new  streets  in  the 
upper  quarter,  turned  to  the  right  when  he  reached  the 
Via  Venti  Settembre,  and  went  straight  on,  past  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  along  the  Quirinal  Palace  ;  then  down 
and  on,  down  and  on,  through  moonlight  and  shadow, 
winding  streets  and  straight,  till  the  Colosseum  was  in 
sight.  He  was  going  towards  the  Porta  San  Sebastiano 
to  take  the  road  to  Ardea. 

The  air  was  very  clear,  and  the  moonlight  made  the 
broad  space  as  bright  as  if  there  were  daylight.  Regina 
walked  fast,  and  began  to  overtake  her  father,  and  the 
dog  turned  his  huiid  and  growled  at  the  tall  woman  in 
black.  She  came  up  with  Ercole  by  the  ruin  of  the 
ancient  fountain,  and  the  dog  snarled  at  her.  Ercole 
stopped  and  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  she  raised  her 
veil. 

362 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  363 

"I  have  followed  you,"  she  said.  "We  are  alone 
here.  We  can  talk  in  peace." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  say  to  you?  "  Ercole  asked,  in  a 
low  and  surly  voice. 

"  What  you  will,  little  or  much,  as  you  please.  You 
shall  speak,  and  I  will  listen.  But  we  can  walk  on 
under  the  trees  there.  Then  nobody  can  see  us." 

Ercole  began  to  go  on,  and  Regina  walked  on  his  left 
side.  The  dog  sniffed  at  the  hem  of  her  long  black 
cloak.  They  came  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  and 
Ercole  stopped  again,  and  turned,  facing  the  reflection 
of  the  moonlight  on  the  vast  curve  of  the  Colosseum. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Why  do 
you  follow  me  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  When  you  saw  that  the  Signore  was  with  me  to 
day,  you  said,  '  It  cannot  be  done/  He  is  not  here  now." 

She  stood  quite  still,  looking  at  him. 

"I  understand  nothing,"  he  said,  in  the  same  surly 
tone  as  before. 

"  You  wished  to  kill  me  to-day,"  she  answered.  "  I 
am  here.  This  is  a  good  place." 

Ercole  looked  about  him  instinctively,  peering  into 
the  shadows  under  the  trees. 

"  There  is  no  one,"  Regina  said.  "  This  is  a  good 
place." 

She  had  not  lifted  her  veil,  but  she  threw  back  the 
collar  of  her  cloak,  and  with  quick  fingers  undid  the 
fastenings  of  her  dress,  opening  it  wide.  Rays  of  moon 
light  fell  through  the  trees  upon  her  bosom,  and  it 
gleamed  like  fine  ivory  newly  cut. 


364  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

44 1  wait,"  she  said. 

She  stood  motionless  before  him,  expecting  the  knife, 
but  her  father's  hands  did  not  move.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  on  hers,  though  he  could  not  see  them  through 
the  veil. 

"  So  he  has  left  you  ?  "  he  said  slowly. 

"No.    I  am  waiting/' 

Not  a  fold  of  her  cloak  stirred  as  she  stood  there  to 
die.  It  seemed  a  long  time,  but  his  hands  did  not 
move.  Then  he  heard  the  sound  of  her  voice,  very  low 
and  sweet,  repeating  a  little  prayer,  but  he  only  heard 
the  last  words  distinctly. 

"  —  now,  and  in  the  hour  of  our  death  !  " 

His  right  hand  moved  slowly  and  found  something  in 
his  pocket,  and  then  there  was  the  sharp  click  of  a 
strong  spring,  and  a  ray  of  moonlight  fell  upon  steel, 
and  her  voice  was  heard  again. 

"  —  in  the  hour  of  our  death.     Amen  !  " 

An  unearthly  sound  rent  the  stillness.  The  huge 
dog  sat  upright  on  his  haunches,  his  head  thrown  up 
and  back,  his  terrible  lower  jaw  trembling  as  he  howled, 
and  howled  again,  waking  great  echoes  where  the  roar 
of  wild  lions  had  rung  long  ago. 

Regina  started,  though  she  did  not  move  a  step  ;  but 
an  unreasoning  fear  fell  upon  Ercole.  He  could  not 
see  her  face,  as  the  dark  veil  hung  down.  She  was  so 
motionless  and  fearless  ;  only  the  dead  could  be  as  fear 
less  of  death  and  as  still  as  she.  Her  breast  was  so 
white ;  her  hands  were  like  marble  hands,  parting  a 
black  shroud  upon  it.  She  was  something  risen  from 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL    OFFEND  365 

the  grave  to  haunt  him  in  that  lonely  place  and  drive 
him  mad  ;  and  the  appalling  howl  of  the  great  dog  rose 
deafeningly  on  the  silence  and  trembled  and  died  away, 
and  began  again. 

Ercole's  hand  relaxed,  and  the  knife  fell  gleaming  at 
his  feet.  One  instant  more  and  he  turned  and  fled 
through  the  trees,  towards  San  Gregorio,  his  dog 
galloping  heavily  after  him. 

Regina's  hands  fell  by  her  sides,  and  the  folds  of 
her  cloak  closed  together  and  hung  straight  down. 
She  stared  into  the  shadowy  distance  a  moment  after 
her  father,  and  saw  his  figure  twice  in  the  light  where 
the  trees  were  wider  apart,  before  he  disappeared  alto 
gether.  She  looked  down  and  saw  the  knife  at  her 
feet,  and  she  picked  it  up  and  felt  the  point.  It  was 
as  sharp  as  a  needle,  for  Ercole  had  whetted  it  often 
since  he  had  sat  by  the  gate  in  the  early  morning  last 
August.  It  was  wet,  for  the  grass  under  the  trees 
had  not  dried  since  the  rain. 

She  felt  the  point  and  edge  with  her  hand,  and 
sighed.  It  would  have  been  better  to  have  felt  it  in 
her  breast,  but  she  would  not  take  her  own  life. 
She  was  not  afraid  to  do  it,  and  her  young  hand  would 
have  been  strong  enough  and  sure  enough  to  do  it 
quickly.  It  was  not  the  thought  of  the  pain  that 
made  her  close  the  knife ;  it  was  the  fear  of  hell. 
Nothing  she  had  done  in  her  life  seemed  very  bad  to 
her,  because  it  had  all  been  for  Marcello.  If  Ercole 
had  killed  her,  she  thought  that  God  would  have  for 
given  her  after  a  time.  But  if  she  killed  herself  she 


366  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

would  instantly  be  seized  by  devils  and  thrust  into  real 
flames,  to  burn  for  ever,  without  the  slightest  chance 
of  forgiveness.  She  had  been  taught  that,  and  she 
believed  it,  and  the  thought  of  the  fire  made  her  shut 
the  clasp-knife  and  slip  it  into  her  dress  with  a  sigh. 
It  would  be  a  pity  to  throw  it  away,  for  it  seemed  to 
be  a  good  knife,  and  her  father  could  not  have  had  it 
very  long. 

She  fastened  her  frock  under  her  mantle  and  went 
a  few  steps  down  the  little  slope  towards  the  Colosseum. 
To  go  on  meant  to  go  home,  and  she  stopped  again. 
The  place  was  very  lonely  and  peaceful,  and  the 
light  on  the  great  walls  was  quiet  and  good  to  see. 
Though  she  had  stood  so  still,  waiting  to  die,  and  had  said 
her  little  prayer  so  calmly,  her  brave  heart  had  been 
beating  slow  and  hard  as  if  it  were  counting  the  seconds 
before  it  was  to  stop ;  and  now  it  beat  fast  and  softly, 
and  fluttered  a  little,  so  that  she  felt  faint,  as  even  brave 
people  do  after  a  great  danger  is  past.  I  have  seen 
hundreds  of  men  together,  just  escaped  from  destruction 
by  earthquake,  moving  about  listlessly  with  veiled  eyes, 
yawning  as  if  they  were  dropping  with  sleep,  and  saying 
childish  things  when  they  spoke  at  all.  Man's  body 
is  the  part  of  himself  which  he  least  understands,  unless 
he  has  spent  half  his  life  in  studying  its  ways.  Its 
many  portions  can  only  telegraph  to  the  brain  two 
words,  *  pain '  and  4  pleasure,'  with  different  degrees  of 
energy ;  but  that  is  all.  The  rest  of  their  language 
belongs  to  science. 

Regina  felt  faint  and  sat  down,  because  there  was  no 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  367 

reason  for  making  any  effort  to  go  home.  Perhaps  a 
cab  would  pass,  returning  from  some  outlying  part  of 
the  city,  and  she  would  take  it.  From  the  place  where 
she  sat  she  could  see  one  far  off,  if  any  came. 

She  sank  down  on  the  wet  ground,  and  drew  up  her 
knees  and  pulled  her  cloak  round  her;  and  gradually 
her  head  bent  forward  and  rested  upon  her  hands,  till 
she  sat  there  like  a  figure  of  grief  outlined  in  black 
against  the  moonlight  on  the  great  wall.  She  had 
forgotten  where  she  was,  and  that  there  was  any  time 
in  the  world. 

Half  an  hour  passed,  and  the  moon  sank  low,  and  an 
hour,  and  the  deadly  white  mist  began  to  rise  in  the 
shadow  round  the  base  of  the  Colosseum,  and  crept  up 
under  the  trees ;  and  if  any  one  had  come  upon  her 
then,  he  would  have  seen  its  dull  whiteness  crawling 
round  her  feet  and  body,  a  hand-breadth  above  the  wet 
ground.  But  she  did  not  know ;  she  had  forgotten 
everything. 

Nothing  was  real  any  more.  She  could  have  believed 
that  her  father  had  killed  her  and  left  her  corpse  there, 
strangely  sitting,  though  quite  dead. 

Then  she  knew  that  the  light  had  gone  out;  and 
suddenly  she  felt  her  teeth  chatter,  and  a  chill  ran 
through  her  bones  that  was  bad  to  feel.  She  raised  her 
head  and  saw  that  the  great  walls  were  dark  against 
the  starry  sky,  and  she  rose  with  an  effort,  as  if  her 
limbs  had  suddenly  become  lead.  But  she  could  walk, 
though  it  was  like  walking  in  sleep. 

She  did  not  afterwards  remember  how  she  got  home, 


368  WlIosoKVKIi   SUALL   OFFEND 

but  she  had  a  vague  recollection  of  having  lost  her  way, 
and  of  finding  a  cab  at  last,  and  then  of  letting  herself 
into  the  little  apartment  in  the  dark. 

When  she  was  next  aware  of  anything  it  was  broad 
daylight,  and  she  was  lying  on  her  bed,  still  dressed 
and  wearing  her  cloak ;  and  Kalraon  was  bending  over 
her,  his  eyes  on  here  and  his  fingers  on  her  pulse,  while 
old  Teresa  watched  her  anxiously  from  the  foot  of  the 
bed. 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  a  4  perniciosa,' "  he  said.  "  Put  her 
to  bed  while  I  call  a  regular  doctor." 

Regina  looked  up  at  him. 

"I  have  fever,  have  I  not?"  she  asked  quite  quietly. 

"Yes.  You  have  a  little  fever,"  he  answered,  but 
his  big  brown  eyes  were  very  grave. 

When  Marcello  came,  an  hour  later,  she  did  not  know 
him.  She  stared  at  him  with  wide,  unwinking  eyes, 
and  there  were  bright  patches  of  colour  in  her  cheeks. 
Already  there  were  hollows  in  them,  too,  and  at  her 
temples,  for  the  perniciosa  fever  is  frightfully  quick  to 
waste  the  body.  In  the  Campagna,  where  it  is  worst, 
men  have  died  of  it  in  less  than  four  hours  after  first 
feeling  it  upon  them.  Great  men  have  discovered 
wonderful  remedies  for  it,  but  still  it  kills. 

Kalmon  got  one  of  the  great  men,  who  was  his  friend, 
and  they  did  what  they  could.  A  nursing  sister  came 
and  was  installed.  Marcello  was  summoned  away  soon 
after  noon  by  an  official  person,  who  brought  a  carnage 
and  said  that  Corbario  was  now  conscious  and  able  to 
speak,  and  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  Mar- 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  369 

cello  should  be  confronted  with  him,  as  he  might  not 
live  another  day.  It  was  easier  to  go  than  it  would 
have  been  if  Regina  had  been  conscious,  but  even  so  it 
was  very  hard.  The  nun  and  Teresa  stayed  with  her. 

She  said  little  in  her  delirium,  and  nothing  that  had 
any  meaning  for  either  of  the  women.  Twice  she 
tried  to  tear  away  the  linen  and  lace  from  her  throat. 

"  I  wait !  "  she  cried  each  time,  and  her  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  the  ceiling,  while  she  held  her  breath. 

The  women  could  not  tell  what  she  was  waiting  for, 
and  they  soothed  her  as  best  they  could.  She  seemed 
to  doze  after  that,  and  when  Marcello  came  back  she 
knew  him,  and  took  his  hand.  He  sent  away  the 
nurses  and  sat  by  the  bedside,  and  she  spoke  to  him 
in  short  sentences,  faintly.  He  bent  forward,  near 
the  pillow,  to  catch  the  words. 

She  was  telling  him  what  she  had  done  last  night. 

"  But  you  promised  that  I  should  find  you  here 
to-day ! "  Marcello  said,  with  gentle  reproach. 

"Yes.  I  did  not  mean  to  break  my  word.  But 
I  thought  he  would  do  it.  It  seemed  so  easy." 

Her  voice  was  weak  with  the  fever,  and  sank  al 
most  to  a  whisper.  He  stroked  her  hand  affection 
ately,  hoping  that  she  would  go  to  sleep;  and  so  a 
long  time  passed.  Then  Kalmon  came  in  with  his 
friend  the  great  doctor.  They  saw  that  she  was  not 
yet  any  better ;  the  doctor  ordered  several  things  to  be 
done  and  went  away.  Kalmon  drew  Marcello  out  of 
the  room. 

"  You   can   do   nothing,"   he  said.     "  She   has  good 

2B 


370  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

care,  and  she  is  very  strong.  Go  home  and  come  back 
in  the  morning." 

"  I  must  stay  here,"  Marcello  answered. 

"  That  is  out  of  tne  question,  on  account  of  the 
Sister  of  Charity.  But  you  can  send  for  your  things 
and  camp  in  my  rooms  downstairs.  There  is  a  good 
sofa.  You  can  telephone  to  the  villa  for  what  you  want." 

"  Thank  you."  Marcello's  voice  dropped  and  shook. 
"Will  she  live?"  he  asked. 

"  I  hope  BO.  She  is  very  strong,  and  it  may  be  only 
fever." 

"  What  else  could  it  be? " 

"  Pneumonia." 

Marcello  bit  his  lip  and  closed  his  eyes  as  if  he 
were  in  bodily  pain,  and  a  moment  later  he  turned 
away  and  went  down  to  Kalmon's  apartment. 

The  Professor  went  back  to  Regina's  side,  and  stood 
quietly  watching  her,  with  a  very  sad  look  in  his 
eyes.  She  opened  hers  and  saw  him,  and  she  brought 
one  hand  to  her  chest. 

"  It  burns,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  but  with  a 
strange  sort  of  eagerness,  as  if  she  were  glad. 

"  I  wish  I  could  bear  it  for  you,  my  poor  child," 
Kalmon  answered. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  turned  uneasily  on  the 
pillow.  He  did  not  understand. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  gently.  "What  can  I  do 
for  you?  Tell  me." 

"  I  want  to  see  some  one  very  much.  How  long 
shall  I  live?" 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  371 

"You  will  get  quite  well,"  said  Kalmon,  in  a  re 
assuring  tone.  "  But  you  must  be  very  quiet."  Again 
she  moved  her  burning  cheek  on  the  pillow. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  a  priest?"  asked  the  Professor, 
thinking  he  had  guessed.  "  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"Yes  —  there  is  time  for  that  —  some  one  else  — 
could  you?  Will  you?" 

"Yes."  Kalmon  bent  down  quickly,  for  he  thought 
the  delirium  was  coming  again.  "  Who  is  it  ? "  he 
asked. 

"Aurora  —  I  mean,  the  Signorina  —  can  you?  Oh, 
do  you  think  you  could?" 

"  I'll  try,"  Kalmon  answered  in  great  surprise. 

But  now  the  hoarseness  was  suddenly  gone,  and  her 
sweet  voice  was  softly  humming  an  old  song  of  the 
hills,  forgotten  many  years,  and  the  Professor  saw 
that  she  did  not  know  him  any  more.  He  nodded  to 
Teresa,  who  was  in  the  room,  and  went  out. 

He  wondered  much  at  the  request,  but  he  remembered 
that  it  had  been  made  in  the  full  belief  that  he  would 
say  nothing  of  it  to  Marcello.  If  she  had  been  willing 
that  Marcello  should  know,  she  would  have  spoken  to 
him,  rather  than  to  Kalmon.  He  had  seen  little  enough 
of  Regina,  but  he  was  sure  that  she  could  have  no  bad 
motive  in  wishing  to  see  the  young  girl.  Yet,  from  a 
social  point  of  view,  it  was  not  exactly  an  easy  thing 
to  propose,  and  the  Contessa  would  have  a  right  to 
be  offended  at  the  mere  suggestion  that  her  daughter 
should  speak  to  "  Consalvi's  Regina  "  ;  and  there  could 
not  be  anything  clandestine  in  the  meeting,  if  Aurora 


372  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

consented  to  it.  Kalmon  was  too  deeply  attached  to 
the  Contessa  herself  to  be  willing  to  risk  her  dis 
pleasure,  or,  indeed,  to  do  anything  of  which  she 
would  not  approve. 

He  went  to  her  house  by  the  Forum  of  Trajan,  and 
he  found  her  at  home.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  lamp  was  lighted  in  the  little  drawing-room, 
which  did  not  seem  at  all  shabby  to  Kalmon's  accus 
tomed  eyes  and  not  very  exigent  taste.  The  Contessa 
was  reading  an  evening  paper  before  the  fire.  She 
put  out  her  hand  to  the  Professor. 

"  It  is  a  bad  business,"  she  said,  glancing  at  the  news 
paper,  which  had  a  long  account  of  Corbario's  arrest 
and  of  the  murder  of  his  old  accomplice.  "  Poor 
Marcello ! " 

"Poor  Marcello!  Yes,  indeed  I  I'm  sorry  for  him. 
There  is  something  more  than  is  in  the  papers,  and  more 
than  I  have  written  to  you  and  told  you.  Regina  has 
the  perniciosa  fever,  complicated  with  pneumonia,  and 
is  not  likely  to  live." 

"I  am  sorry,"  the  Contessa  answered.  "I  am  very 
sorry  for  her.  But  after  all,  compared  with  what 
Marcello  has  learned  about  his  mother's  death  —  and 
other  things  Corbario  did  —  " 

She  stopped,  implying  by  her  tone  that  even  if 
Regina  died,  that  would  not  be  the  greatest  of  Mar- 
cello's  misfortunes.  Besides,  she  had  long  foreseen 
that  the  relations  of  the  two  could  not  last,  and  the 
simplest  solution,  and  the  happiest  one  for  the  poor 
devoted  girl,  was  that  she  should  die  before  her 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  373 

heart  was  broken.  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  had  often 
wished  that  her  own  fate  had  been  as  merciful. 

"  Yes,"  Kalmon  answered.  "  You  are  right  in  that. 
But  Regina  has  made  a  rather  strange  request.  It  was 
very  unexpected,  and  perhaps  I  did  wrong  to  tell  her 
that  I  would  do  my  best  to  satisfy  her.  I  don't  think 
she  will  live,  and  I  felt  sorry  for  her.  That  is  why  I 
came  to  you.  It  concerns  Aurora." 

"  Aurora  ?  "     The  Contessa  was  surprised. 

"  Yes.  The  girl  knows  she  is  dying,  and  wishes  very 
much  to  see  Aurora  for  a  moment.  I  suppose  it  was 
weak  of  me  to  give  her  any  hope." 

The  Contessa  dropped  her  newspaper  and  looked  into 
the  fire  thoughtfully  before  she  answered. 

"  You  and  I  are  very  good  friends,"  she  said.  "  You 
would  not  ask  me  to  do  anything  you  would  not  do 
yourself,  would  you?  If  you  had  a  daughter  of 
Aurora's  age,  should  you  let  her  go  and  see  this  poor 
woman,  unless  it  were  an  act  of  real  charity  ?  " 

"  No,"  Kalmon  answered  reluctantly.  "  I  don't  think 
I  should." 

"Thank  you  for  being  so  honest,"  Maddalena  an 
swered,  and  looked  at  the  fire  again. 

Some  time  passed  before  she  spoke  again,  still  watch 
ing  the  flames.  Kalmon  sighed,  for  he  was  very  sorry 
for  Regina. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  the  Contessa  said  at  last,  "  it 
may  be  a  real  charity.  Have  you  any  idea  why  she 
wishes  to  see  Aurora  ?  " 

"  No.     I  cannot  guess." 


374  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  I  can.  At  least,  I  think  I  can."  She  paused 
again.  "You  know  everything  about  me,"  she  con 
tinued  presently.  "  In  the  course  of  years  I  have  told 
you  all  my  story.  Do  you  think  I  am  a  better  woman 
than  Regina  ?  " 

"  My  dear  friend ! "  cried  Kalmon,  almost  angrily. 
"  How  can  you  suggest  —  " 

She  turned  her  clear,  sad  eyes  to  him,  and  her  look 
cut  short  his  speech. 

u  What  has  her  sin  been  ?  "  she  asked  gently.  "  She 
has  loved  Marcello.  What  was  mine?  That  I  loved 
one  man  too  well.  Which  is  the  better  woman  ?  She, 
the  peasant,  who  knew  no  better,  who  found  her  first 
love  dying,  and  saved  him,  and  loved  him  —  knowing 
no  better,  and  braving  the  world  ?  Or  I,  well  born, 
carefully  brought  up,  a  woman  of  the  world,  and  mar 
ried  —  no  matter  how  —  not  braving  the  world  at  all, 
but  miserably  trying  to  deceive  it,  and  my  husband,  and 
my  child?  Do  you  think  I  was  so  much  better  than 
poor  Regina  ?  Would  my  own  daughter  think  so  if  she 
could  know  and  understand?  " 

"  If  you  were  not  a  very  good  woman  now,"  Kalmon 
said  earnestly,  "  you  could  not  say  what  you  are  saying." 

"  Never  mind  what  I  am  now.  I  am  not  as  good  as 
you  choose  to  think.  If  I  were,  there  would  not  be  a 
bitter  thought  left.  I  should  have  forgiven  all.  Leave 
out  of  the  question  what  I  am  now.  Compare  me  as  I 
was  with  Regina  as  she  is.  That  is  how  I  put  it,  and  I 
am  right." 

uEven  if   you  were,"  Kalmon  answered   doubtfully, 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  375 

"  the  situation  would  be  the  same,  so  far  as  Aurora  is 
concerned." 

"  But  suppose  that  this  poor  woman  cannot  die  in 
peace  unless  she  has  asked  Aurora's  pardon  and  obtained 
her  forgiveness,  what  then?" 

"  Her  forgiveness  ?     For  what ?  " 

"  For  coming  between  her  and  Marcello.  Say  that, 
so  far  as  Regina  knows,  my  daughter  is  the  only  human 
being  she  has  ever  injured,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Does  Aurora  love  Marcello  ?  "  asked  Kalmon,  in 
stead  of  answering  the  question. 

"I  think  she  does.     I  am  almost  sure  of  it." 

Kalmon  was  silent  for  a  while. 

"  But  Marcello,"  he  said  at  last,  "  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  has  always  loved  Aurora,"  the  Contessa  an 
swered.  "  Do  you  blame  him  so  much  for  what  he  has 
done  ?  Why  do  you  blame  some  people  so  easily,  my 
dear  friend,  and  others  not  at  all  ?  Do  you  realise  what 
happened  to  him  ?  He  was  virtually  taken  out  of  the 
life  he  was  leading,  by  a  blow  that  practically  destroyed 
his  memory,  and  of  which  the  consequences  altogether 
destroyed  his  will  for  some  time.  He  found  himself 
saved  and  at  the  same  time  loved  —  no,  worshipped  — 
by  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  in  the  world. 
Never  mind  her  birth!  She  has  never  looked  at  any 
other  man,  before  or  since,  and  from  what  I  have  heard, 
she  never  will.  Ah,  if  all  women  were  like  her ! 
Marcello,  weak  from  illness,  allowed  himself  to  be 
worshipped,  and  Corbario  did  the  rest.  I  understand  it 
all.  Do  you  blame  him  very  much?  I  don't.  With 


376  AYHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

all  your  strength  of  character,  you  would  have  done  the 
same  at  his  age !  And  having  taken  what  she  offered, 
what  could  he  do,  when  he  grew  up  and  came  to  him 
self,  and  felt  his  will  again?  Could  he  cast  her  off, 
after  all  she  had  done  for  him  ?  " 

"  He  could  marry  her,"  observed  Kalmon.  "  I  don't 
see  why  he  should  not,  after  all." 

44  Marriage  !  "  There  was  a  little  scornful  sadness  in 
Maddalena's  voice.  "  Marriage  is  always  the  solution ! 
No,  no,  he  is  right  not  to  marry  her,  if  he  has  ever 
thought  of  it.  They  would  only  make  each  other 
miserable  for  the  rest  of  their  lives.  Miserable,  and 
perhaps  faithless  too.  That  is  what  happens  when  men 
and  women  are  not  saints.  Look  at  me  !  " 

44  You  were  never  in  that  position.  Others  were  to 
blame,  who  made  you  marry  when  you  were  too  young 
to  have  any  will  of  your  own." 

44  Blame  no  one,"  said  the  Contessa  gravely.  "  I 
shall  give  Aurora  Regina's  message,  and  if  she  is  will 
ing  to  go  and  see  her,  I  shall  bring  her  to-morrow 
morning  —  to-night,  if  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost. 
The  world  need  never  know.  Go  and  tell  Regina  what 
I  have  said.  It  may  comfort  her  a  little,  poor  thing." 

"Indeed  it  will!  " 

Kalmon's  brown  eyes  beamed  with  pleasure  at  the 
thought  of  taking  the  kindly  message  to  the  dying  girl. 
He  rose  to  his  feet  at  once. 

"  There  is  no  one  like  you,"  he  said,  as  he  took  her 
hand. 

44  It  is  nothing.     It  is  what  Marcello's  mother  would 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 


377 


have  done,  and  she  was  my  best  friend.  All  I  do  is  to 
take  the  responsibility  upon  myself,  however  Aurora 
may  choose  to  act.  I  will  send  you  word,  in  either  case. 
If  Aurora  will  not  go,  I  will  come  myself,  if  I  can  be  of 
any  use,  if  it  would  make  Regina  feel  happier.  I  will 
come,  and  I  will  tell  her  what  I  have  told  you.  Good 
night,  dear  friend." 

Kalmon  was  not  an  emotional  man,  but  as  he  went 
out  he  felt  a  little  lump  in  his  throat,  as  if  he  could  not 
swallow. 

He  had  not  doubted  his  friend's  kindness,  but  he  had 
doubted  whether  she  would  feel  that  she  had  a  right  to 
"expose  her  daughter,"  as  the  world  would  say,  to 
meeting  such  a  "  person,"  as  the  world  called  Regina  — 
"  Consalvi's  Regina." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

ALL  that  night  and  the  following  day  Regina  recog 
nised  no  one ;  and  it  was  night  again,  and  her  strength 
began  to  fail,  but  her  understanding  returned.  Mar- 
cello  saw  the  change,  and  made  a  sign  to  the  nurse,  who 
went  out  to  tell  Kalraon. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  when  he  entered  the  room, 
and  Regina  knew  him  and  looked  at  him  anxiously. 
He,  in  turn,  glanced  at  Marcello,  and  she  understood. 
She  begged  Marcello  to  go  and  get  some  rest.  Her 
voice  was  very  weak,  as  if  she  were  suffocating,  and  she 
coughed  painfully.  He  did  not  like  to  go  away,  but 
Kalmon  promised  to  call  him  at  midnight ;  he  had  been 
in  the  room  six  hours,  scarcely  moving  from  his  seat. 
He  lingered  at  the  door,  looked  back,  and  at  last  went 
out. 

"  Will  she  come?"  asked  Regina,  when  he  was  gone. 

"  In  half  an  hour.  I  have  sent  a  messenger,  for  they 
have  no  telephone."  ^ 

A  bright  smile  lighted  up  the  wasted  face. 

"  Heaven  will  reward  you,"  she  said,  as  the  poor  say 
in  Rome  when  they  receive  a  charity. 

Then  she  seemed  to  be  resting,  for  her  hands  lay  still, 
and  she  closed  her  eyes.  But  presently  she  opened  them, 
looking  up  gratefully  into  the  big  man's  kind  face. 

"  Shall  I  be  alone  with  her  a  little  ?  "  she  asked. 

378 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  379 

"  Yes,  rny  dear.  You  shall  be  alone  with  her." 
Again  she  smiled,  and  he  left  the  nurse  with  her  and 
went  and  waited  downstairs  at  the  street  door,  till  the 
Contessa  and  Aurora  should  come,  in  order  to  take  them 
up  to  the  little  apartment.  He  knew  that  Marcello 
must  have  fallen  asleep  at  once,  for  he  had  not  rested 
at  all  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  very  little  during 
several  days  past.  Kalmon  was  beginning  to  fear  that 
he  would  break  down,  though  he  was  so  much  stronger 
than  formerly. 

Marcello  had  always  been  grateful  to  Regina,  even 
when  he  had  convinced  himself  that  he  loved  her. 
Love  is  not  very  compatible  with  gratitude.  Two 
people  who  love  each  other  very  much  expect  every 
thing  because  they  are  always  ready  to  give  everything, 
not  in  return  or  by  way  of  any  exchange,  but  as  if  the 
two  were  one  in  giving  and  taking.  A  man  cannot 
be  grateful  to  himself.  But  Marcello  had  never  felt 
that  dear  illusion  with  Regina,  because  there  had  been 
no  real  companionship;  and  so  he  had  always  been 
grateful  to  her,  and  now  that  she  wras  perhaps  dying, 
he  was  possessed  by  the  horribly  painful  certainty  that 
he  could  never  repay  her  what  he  owed,  and  that  this 
debt  of  honour  must  remain  unpaid  for  ever,  if  she 
died.  There  was  much  more  than  that  in  what  he  felt, 
of  course,  for  there  was  his  very  real  affection,  tor 
mented  by  the  foreboding  of  the  coming  wrench,  and 
there  was  the  profound  sympathy  of  a  very  kind  man 
for  a  suffering  woman.  But  all  that  together  was  not 
love  like  hers  for  him ;  it  was  not  love  at  all. 


380  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

Kalmon  waited,  and  smoked  a  little,  reflecting  on 
these  things,  which  he  understood  tolerably  well.  The 
quiet  man  of  science  had  watched  Marcello  thought 
fully,  and  could  not  help  asking  himself  what  look 
there  would  be  in  his  own  eyes,  if  Maddalena  dell' 
Armi  were  dying  and  he  were  standing  by  her  bedside. 
It  would  not  be  Marcello's  look. 

A  closed  cab  stopped  before  the  entrance,  and  almost 
before  he  could  throw  away  his  cigarette,  the  Contessa 
and  Aurora  were  standing  beside  him  on  the  pavement. 

"  She  is  very  weak,"  he  said,  "  but  she  will  not  be 
delirious  again  for  some  time  —  if  at  all." 

Neither  of  the  ladies  spoke,  and  they  followed  him  in 
silence  up  the  ill-lighted  staircase. 

"  That  is  where  I  live,"  he  said,  as  he  passed  his  own 
door  on  the  second  landing.  "Marcello  is  camping 
there.  He  is  probably  asleep  now." 

"Asleep!"  It  was  Aurora  that  uttered  the  single 
word,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 

"  He  did  not  go  to  bed  last  night,"  Kalmon  explained, 
going  on. 

"  Oh ! "  Again  the  Professor  was  struck  by  the 
young  girl's  tone. 

They  reached  the  third  landing,  and  Kalmon  pushed 
the  door,  which  he  had  left  ajar;  he  shut  it  when  they 
had  all  entered,  and  he  ushered  the  mother  and  daugh 
ter  into  the  small  sitting-room.  There  they  waited 
a  moment  while  he  went  to  tell  Regina  that  Aurora  had 
come. 

The  young  girl  dropped  her  cloak  upon  a  chair  and 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  381 

stood  waiting,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  door.  She  was  a 
little  pale,  not  knowing  what  was  to  come,  yet  feeling 
somehow  that  it  was  to  make  a  great  difference  to  her 
ever  afterwards.  She  glanced  at  her  mother,  and  the 
Contessa  smiled  gently,  as  much  as  to  say  that  she  was 
doing  right,  but  neither  spoke. 

Presently  Kalmon  came  out  with  the  Sister  of  Charity, 
who  bent  her  head  gravely  to  the  two  ladies. 

"  She  wishes  to  see  you  alone,"  Kalmon  said,  in  ex 
planation,  while  he  held  the  door  open  for  Aurora  to 
pass  in. 

He  closed  it  after  her,  and  the  two  were  together. 

When  Aurora  entered,  Regina's  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
her  face  as  if  they  had  already  found  her  and  seen  her 
while  she  had  been  in  the  other  room.  She  came 
straight  to  the  bedside  and  took  the  hand  that  was 
stretched  out  to  meet  hers.  It  was  thin  and  hot  now, 
and  the  arm  was  already  wasted.  Aurora  remembered 
how  strongly  it  had  lifted  her  to  the  edge  of  the  rock, 
far  away  by  Pontresina. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Signorina,"  said  the  faint  voice. 
"  You  see  how  I  am." 

Aurora  saw  indeed,  and  kept  the  hand  in  hers  as  she 
sat  down  in  the  chair  that  stood  where  Marcello  had 
left  it. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  she  said,  leaning  forward  a 
little  and  looking  into  the  worn  face,  colourless  now 
that  the  fever  had  subsided  for  a  while. 

The  same  bright  smile  that  Kalmon  had  seen  lighted 
up  Regina's  features. 


382  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

"  But  I  am  glad ! "  she  answered.  "  They  do  not 
understand  that  I  am  glad." 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  Aurora  softly.  "  Don't  say  you  are 
glad'" 

The  smile  faded,  and  a  very  earnest  look  came  into 
the  hollow  dark  eyes. 

"  But  I  have  not  done  it  on  purpose,"  Regina  said. 
"  I  did  not  know  there  was  fever  in  that  place,  or 
I  would  not  have  sat  down  there.  You  believe  me, 
Signorina,  don't  you?  " 

«  Yes,  indeed ! " 

The  smile  returned  very  gradually,  and  the  anxious 
pressure  of  the  hand  relaxed. 

"  You  must  not  think  that  I  was  looking  for  the  fever. 
But  since  it  came,  and  I  am  going  from  here,  I  am  glud. 
I  shall  not  be  in  the  way  any  more.  That  hindrance 
will  be  taken  out  of  his  life." 

"  He  would  not  like  to  hear  you  speak  like  this," 
Aurora  said,  with  great  gentleness. 

"  There  is  no  time  for  anything  except  the  truth,  now. 
And  you  are  good,  so  good  !  No,  there  is  no  time.  To 
morrow,  I  shall  be  gone.  Signorina,  if  I  could  kneel  at 
your  feet,  I  would  kneel.  But  you  see  how  I  am.  You 
must  think  I  am  kneeling  at  your  feet." 

"  But  why?"  asked  Aurora,  with  a  little  distress. 

"To  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for  being  a  hindrance. 
I  want  pardon  before  I  go.  But  I  found  him  half  dead 
on  the  door-step.  What  could  I  do?  When  I  had  seen 
him,  I  loved  him.  I  knew  that  he  thought  of  you. 
That  was  all  he  remembered  —  just  your  name,  and  I 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  383 

hated  it,  because  he  had  forgotten  all  other  names, 
even  his  own,  and  his  mother,  and  everything.  He  was 
like  a  little  child  that  learns,  to-day  this,  to-morrow  that, 
one  thing  at  a  time.  What  could  I  do  ?  I  taught  him. 
I  also  taught  him  to  love  Regina.  But  when  the  mem 
ory  came  back,  I  knew  how  it  had  been  before." 

Her  voice  broke  and  she  coughed,  and  raised  one 
hand  to  her  chest.  Aurora  supported  her  tenderly 
until  it  was  over,  and  when  the  weary  head  sank  back 
at  last  it  lay  upon  the  young  girl's  willing  arm. 

"  You  are  tiring  yourself,"  Aurora  said.  "  If  it  was 
to  ask  my  forgiveness  that  you  wished  me  to  come,  I 
forgave  you  long  ago,  if  there  was  anything  to  for 
give.  I  forgave  you  when  we  met,  and  I  saw  what 
you  were,  and  that  you  loved  him  for  himself,  just 
as  I  do." 

"  Is  it  true  ?     Really  true  ?  " 

"So  may  God  help  me,  it  is  quite  true.  But  if  I 
had  thought  it  was  not  for  himself  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was,"  Regina  answered.  "  It  was,  and  it 
is,  to  the  end.  Will  you  see  ?  I  will  show  you.  For 
what  the  eyes  see  the  heart  believes  more  easily.  Signo- 
rina,  will  you  bring  the  little  box  covered  with  old 
velvet  ?  It  is  there,  on  the  table,  and  it  is  open." 

Aurora  rose,  humouring  her,  and  brought  the  thing 
she  asked  for,  and  sat  down  again,  setting  it  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed.  Regina  turned  her  head  to  see  it,  and 
raised  the  lid  with  one  hand. 

"  This  is  my  little  box,"  she  said.  "  What  he  has 
given  me  is  all  in  it.  I  have  no  other.  Will  you  see  ? 


384  WHOSOEVER  SHALL   OFFEND 

Here  is  what  I  have  taken  from  him.  You  shall  look 
everywhere,  if  you  do  not  believe." 

"  But  I  do  believe  you ! "  Aurora  cried,  feeling  that 
tears  were  coming  to  her  eyes. 

"  But  you  must  see,"  Regina  insisted.  "  Or  perhaps 
when  I  am  gone  you  will  say  to  yourself,  4  There 
may  have  been  diamonds  and  pearls  in  the  little 
box,  after  all ! '  You  shall  know  that  it  was  all  for 
himself." 

To  please  her  Aurora  took  up  some  of  the  simple 
trinkets,  simpler  and  cheaper  even  than  what  she  had 
herself. 

"There  are  dresses,  yes,  many  more  than  I  wanted. 
But  I  could  not  let  him  be  ashamed  of  me  when  we  went 
out  together,  and  travelled.  Do  you  forgive  me  the 
dresses,  Signorina?  I  wore  them  to  please  him. 
Please  forgive  me  that  also  !  " 

Aurora  dropped  the  things  into  the  open  box  and 
laid  both  her  hands  on  Regina's,  bending  down  her 
radiant  head  and  looking  very  earnestly  into  the  anx 
ious  eyes. 

"  Forgiveness  is  not  all  from  me  to  you,  Regina,"  she 
said.  "  I  want  yours  too." 

"  Mine?"     The  eyes  grew  wide  and  wondering. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  but  for  me  he  would  have  married 
you,  and  that  I  have  been  the  cause  of  a  great  wrong  to 
you?" 

For  one  instant  Regina's  face  darkened,  her  brows 
straightened  themselves,  and  her  lip  curled.  She 
remembered  how,  only  two  days  ago,  in  the  very  next 


WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND  385 

room,  Marcello  had  insisted  that  she  should  be  his  wife. 
But  as  she  looked  into  Aurora's  innocent  eyes  she 
understood,  and  the  cloud  passed  from  her  own,  and 
the  bright  smile  came  back.  Aurora  had  spoken  in  the 
simplicity  of  her  true  heart,  sure  that  it  was  only  the 
memory  of  his  love  for  her  that  had  withheld  Marcello 
from  first  to  last;  and  Regina  well  knew  that  it  had 
always  been  present  with  him,  in  spite  of  his  brave 
struggle  to  put  it  away.  That  memory  of  another, 
which  Regina  had  seen  slowly  reviving  in  him,  had 
been  for  something  in  her  refusal  to  marry  him. 

With  the  mysterious  sure  vision  of  those  who  are 
near  death,  she  felt  that  it  would  hurt  Aurora  to  know 
the  truth,  except  from  Marcello  himself. 

"  If  you  have  ever  stood  between  us,"  she  said,  "  you 
had  the  right.  He  loved  you  first.  There  is  nothing 
to  forgive  in  that.  Afterwards  he  loved  me  a  little. 
No  one  can  take  that  from  me,  no  one !  It  is  mine, 
and  it  is  all  I  have,  and  though  I  am  going,  and  though 
I  know  that  he  is  tired  of  me,  it  is  still  more  than  the 
world.  To  have  it,  as  I  have  it,  I  would  do  again  what 
I  did,  from  the  first." 

The  voice  was  weak  and  muffled,  but  the  words  were 
distinct,  and  they  were  the  confession  of  poor  Regina's 
life. 

"  If  he  were  here,"  she  said,  after  a  moment,  "  I 
would  lay  your  hand  in  his.  Only  let  me  take  that 
memory  with  me !  " 

The  young  girl  rose  and  bent  over  her  as  she  answered. 

"  It  is  yours,  to  keep  for  ever." 

2c 


886  WHOSOEVER   SHALL   OFFEND 

She   stooped   a   little   lower   and    kissed    the  dying 

woman's  forehead. 

***** 

Under  the  May  moon  a  little  brigantine  came  sailing 
up  to  a  low  island  just  within  sight  of  Italy  ;  when  she 
was  within  half  a  mile  of  the  reefs  Don  Antonino 
Maresca  put  her  about,  for  he  was  a  prudent  man, 
and  he  knew  that  there  are  just  a  few  more  rocks 
in  the  sea  than  are  in  the  charts.  It  was  a  quiet 
night,  and  he  was  beating  up  against  a  gentle  northerly 
breeze. 

When  the  head  yards  were  swung,  and  braced  sharp 
up  for  the  other  tack,  and  the  little  vessel  had  gathered 
way  again,  the  mate  came  aft  and  stood  by  the  captain, 
watching  the  light  on  the  island. 

44  Are  there  still  convicts  on  this  island,  Don  Anto 
nino  ?  "  the  young  man  asked. 

"Yes,  there  are  the  convicts.  And  there  is  one 
among  them  whom  I  helped  to  put  there.  He  is  an 
assassin  that  killed  many  when  he  was  at  liberty.  But 
now  he  sits  for  seven  years  in  a  little  cell  alone,  and 
sees  no  Christian,  and  it  will  be  thirty  years  before  he 
is  free." 

"Madonna!"  ejaculated  the  mate.  "  When  he  has 
been  there  thirty  years  he  will  perhaps  understand." 

44  It  is  as  I  say,"  rejoined  the  captain.  44  The  world 
is  made  so.  There  are  the  good  and  the  bad.  The 
Eternal  Father  has  created  things  thus.  Get  a  little 
more  on  the  main  sheet,  and  then  flatten  in  those 
jibs." 


WHOSOEVER    SHALL    OFFEND  387 

Under  the  May  moon,  in  the  small  shaft  of  white 
light  that  fell  through  the  narrow  grated  window, 
a  man  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  pallet  bed.  His  face  was 
ghastly,  and  there  were  strange  scars  on  his  bare  throat. 
His  cell  was  seven  feet  by  six,  and  the  air  was  hard  to 
breathe,  because  the  wind  was  not  from  the  south. 
But  the  moon  was  kinder  than  the  sun.  He  heard  the 
ripple  of  the  cool  sea,  and  he  tried  to  dream  that  a  great 
stone  was  hung  to  his  neck,  and  that  he  had  been  thrown 
into  a  deep  place.  Perhaps,  some  day,  the  gaoler  would 
forget  to  take  away  the  coarse  towel  which  was  brought 
with  the  water  in  the  morning.  With  a  towel  he 
could  hang  himself. 

Under  the  May  moon  a  small  marble  cross  cast  its 
shadow  upon  young  roses  and  violets  and  growing 
myrtle.  In  the  sweet  earth  below  a  very  loyal  heart 
was  at  rest  for  ever.  But  the  flowers  were  planted  and 
still  tended  by  a  woman  with  radiant  hair ;  and  some  times, 
when  she  stooped  to  train  the  young  roses,  bright  drops 
fell  quietly  upon  their  bloom.  Also,  on  certain  days,  a 
man  came  there  alone  and  knelt  upon  the  marble  border 
within  which  the  flowers  grew.  Bat  the  man  and  the 
woman  never  came  together ;  and  he  gave  the  gardener 
of  that  place  money,  praising  him  for  the  care  of  the 
flowers. 


Under    the    May   moon    the    man    and    the    woman 
went  down   from  the   cottage    by    the   Roman    shore 


388  WHOSOEVER   SHALL  OFFEND 

to  the  break  in  the  high  bank,  and  stood  still  a 
while,  looking  out  at  the  peaceful  sea  and  the  moon's 
broad  path.  Presently  they  turned  to  each  other,  put 
out  their  hands,  and  then  their  arms,  and  clasped  each 
other  silently,  and  kissed. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


